


Ghosts of Future Past

by readercat



Category: Becoming Jane (2007), Jane Eyre (2011), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M, potential triggery stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 03:24:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 27,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readercat/pseuds/readercat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While cleaning the attic of his old mansion, Charles finds an old daguerreotype of two men who look just like Erik and him.  An old journal, a packet of old letters, and some very strange dreams tell the story of a century-old love affair that has never quite ended...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Journal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Synekdokee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synekdokee/gifts).



> For the McFassy Autumn Extravaganza 2013. Prompt: ‘the old Xavier mansion and a haunting.’
> 
> A/N: The story was to be Edward/Tom, but Cherik wouldn't stay away. I did a hand-wave on the time issue, as Tom would be an old man in Edward’s time, and Edward wouldn't even be 'born' in Tom’s (and photography wasn't invented until Edward's time). So...*hand-wave* Time! Also *hand-wave* Location! I put Thornfield Hall in Westchester NY—how else is the journal going to get in Charles's attic?! Lastly, the XMFC part of the story is AU: it's 1964, Erik is still around, and Charles can walk.
> 
>    
> 09/30/15: Just posted a new chapter (Ch 20) and Ch 1-4 have been re-edited and posted (I'm going thru this thing, doing a massive re-edit). Nothing's really changed except that (hopefully) it'll flow better now. 
> 
> Any comments, critiques, help, etc., are welcome and would be greatly appreciated. Be gentle, though.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles is having a bad day, and to let off some steam he decides to clean the attic. There, he unearths a fascinating old journal--and an old daguerreotype of two men who look just like Erik and him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 02/26: Chapter 1 has been re-edited.

 

**Excerpt from the Private Journals of Edward Rochester:**

 

          _For so many years my estate, Thornfield, had been my private hell—and a hell of my own making, no less.  My young ward, Adele, was the only hint of color in my otherwise bleak existence, until one day a girl with bold eyes and straightforward ways came along, breathing life back into Thornfield—and into me.  My Jane made Thornfield, at long last, into a home, into a place where I wanted to be.  In spite of everything I‘d done—and even during the time I’d lost my eyesight—Jane was always there, loving me and forcing me to not give up.  Without her, I would have retreated into myself and withered away with self-pity.  I would not be the man I am today.  She is my friend, my companion, my ardent lover, and she has given me the most wondrous gift of a beautiful son.  I could not imagine a life (indeed, could not imagine_ living _) without Jane by my side.  I thank God every day for the seemingly random series of events that brought us together.  But I must, dear Journal, confess to you my deepest secret, my darkest sin:  As much I love her, as much as I will_ always _love her, I know now that I did not truly start to live until the day that fate brought Tom LeFroy to my door._

_You see, dear Journal, I am a man torn between two loves.  One, my beautiful, clever, beloved wife without whom I_ cannot _exist—she is my soul.  The other, my beautiful, clever, beloved friend without I do not_ want _to exist—he is my passion, though he knows not of my feelings.  Oh, do not misunderstand:  do not think that my feelings for my Jane are not as a husband’s for a wife—our precious son offers some proof of that and there are no complaints in our marriage bed from either of us.  I merely mean that there is something about Tom that calls to that most visceral, passionate side of me—he is_ alive _in a way that I lack the capacity to explain.  From the moment we met, before he’d ever uttered a word, Tom sparked something within me that I had never before felt.  I helplessly drowned in the depths of his blue eyes and was swept out to sea, forever lost.  So enraptured was I with his beautiful eyes, that I missed seeing his lovely red lips form his first words to me.  Though if I am to confess to you, dear Journal, then I must be completely honest, mustn't I?  The most chaste of my thoughts about his lips, by far, was to see if they tasted like the cherries whose color they mimicked.  Even now, I blush like a maiden at the carnal nature of my thoughts._

_Oh, if only it were simply carnal desire that I felt for Tom!  It would all be so easy then.  Though it shames me to admit this, if it were only lust I would already have broken my marriage vows, taken him to my bed and sated my desires on him.  But, of course, it can never be simple, can it, dear Journal?  I love him.  And I love her.  But, God help me, I would break my marriage vows to have him in my arms if I thought him willing.  I am no longer ashamed of what I feel for Tom, only ashamed of how it would hurt both Tom and my wife to know what a selfish, depraved creature I am.  But I ask you, how can it be depraved to love someone so truly?_

_One last confession before I retire this evening:  I lied to you earlier, dear Journal.  My deepest secret, my darkest sin is that I want to have them_ both _.  In the depths of my heart, when it is late at night and all is silent, my dearest dream is to have them both beside me in my bed, for us to all be lovers together.  To be free to love Tom the way I've so longed, to see Tom make love to our sweet Jane, to see her glowing and ripe with Tom’s child, our child.  If it brands me a Libertine to love like this, to want this, so be it.  I am a Libertine._

 

_**Edward Fairfax Rochester, November 1840** _

 

 

 

Westchester, New York, 1964...

 

          Charles wipes at his eyes as he finishes reading the entry in the old journal he’d discovered in the attic of the old mansion where he reluctantly lived.  He was up here because he’d needed to work off some anger:  the kids had nearly destroyed the kitchen… _again_ , Erik was being a dick… _again_ , the CIA was being a collective dick… _as usual_ , the Education Board was giving him shit about the school… _again_ , and...well, you get the picture.  Anyway, since fall had arrived, it had gotten too cold to go for a run so he‘d decided to burn off his anger by cleaning the attic.  So now, instead of just being pissed off, he’d ended up pissed off, covered in grime and cobwebs… _and_ was just as cold as if he’d gone for that run, anyway.

          When he’d first unearthed the old journal, he’d been ready to just chuck it on the rubbish heap.   _That’s_ the kind of day he’d been having.  A day shitty enough that he was ready to throw away a _book_ —without even bothering to look at it.  The only thing that stopped him was the photograph that had fallen out, an old daguerreotype.  When he had picked it up and got a good look at it, he had gasped in shock:  the two men in the photograph could have been Erik and him, except for the clothes and hairstyles.  Charles turned the daguerreotype over and printed on the back was:

 

_**Edward Rochester, Tom LeFroy 1844** _

 

          Of course, now he _had_ to look at the journal.  Erik was fond of saying that Charles was worse than a cat and toddler combined when it came to curiosity—but what did Erik know?  Charles was a purveyor of knowledge.  Erik was a dick.  Charles wiped off the dust and carefully cracked the open journal, thankful that he was used to dealing with old books. The pages were yellowed and brittle, but considering the thing had been lying here this old attic for over a hundred years, it was in surprisingly good condition. Fortunately, this Edward fellow was apparently anal-tentative, so his handwriting was neat and easy to read, and Charles was soon engrossed in reading about the hopes, dreams, and secret desires of one Edward Fairfax Rochester.  In no time, Charles had forgotten all about cleaning the attic and was burning with curiosity to read more of Edward’s journal.  What he’d read so far had moved him to tears.  

          He wondered what happened to the two men who looked so like Erik and him.  Did Edward finally “sate his desires” on Tom or did he stay true to his Jane?  Did Edward confess his love to Tom?  Whatever had happened, obviously the two men remained friends since they were smiling in the photograph—which, Charles noted, had been taken four years after the journal entry.  Unfortunately, it had started getting dark and the lighting in the attic wasn't very good, so it looked like he would have to wait until tomorrow to read more.  In spite of his disappointment at having to abandon his read, he was kind of glad to be going.  It really was freezing up here.  He didn't want to take the journal out of the attic just yet, so he carefully tucked the daguerreotype back into the journal to mark his place, sat it on the trunk where he'd found it, and made his way out of the attic, turning out the lights and shutting the door behind him.  His mind occupied by thoughts of the journal, he completely missed the figure that had been watching him from the corner of the attic--a tall figure, dressed in Victorian-era clothing.

 

 

          _“Tom…”_ _  
_


	2. Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In spite of his excitement at finding the journal, Charles is still pissed off at the world. All he wants now is to lose himself in the oblivion of sleep. Instead, he dreams.
> 
> Edited 03/7/15

          Charles makes his way downstairs to find the house far more subdued than when he’d stormed off to the attic earlier that day.  The kids ( _the free-loading-old-enough-to-vote-and-get-a-JOB “kids”_ , he thinks sourly) were looking very contrite, and had cleaned up the kitchen as best they could—though he would still have to call a contractor if he ever wanted the room to be functional again.  They were wise enough to not try to apologize.

          Certainly wiser than Erik, who ignores Charles’s baleful glare, and tries to placate him with an offer of alcohol and chess.   _Oh, how generous._   _Offer me_ my _liquor and the use of_ my _chess set._  Charles doesn’t even slow down. _Ass._  He can hear Erik’s harrumph at being ignored, and he barely restrains himself from rolling his eyes in disgust.   _And here we go, cue self-righteous indignation in 3...2...1..._

         “Charles! I’m _trying_ to apologize here!  The least you can do is lis… _blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah…_ ”.  Charles simply tunes him out and keeps moving—he’s had more than enough of everyone’s shit today and all he wants is to crawl into bed and call it a night.  Erik and everyone else in this damn place can kiss his pasty-white ass.

          When he finally makes it back to his room, the sight of his bed makes him want to cry with relief.  This day has sucked so bad he doesn’t even have words.  The only remotely good thing that had happened today was finding that journal.  Now, he just wants the day to be over and he crawls straight into bed, not even bothering to take off his trainers.  He is asleep almost instantly, but his sleep is not at all the restful oblivion he‘d been craving.  He can’t quite seem to get warm and he keeps waking between dreams that are fractured, almost feverish in their quality.  In some of his fragmented dreams, he is Tom, the lover over whom Edward was so torn, and he dreams of desperate, deeply-passionate love-making and of stolen moments of pleasure.  In other fragments, he and _Erik_ are the two lovers.  The dreams feel very real and are disturbing in their intensity. Sometimes when he wakes, his pillow is damp with tears and sometimes he wakes painfully hard.  In one particularly erotic dream, he is facing a wall with his hands tied above his head, so mindless with pleasure he can say only, _“I love you, I love you, I love you…”_ as the man fucking him so beautifully ( _EdwardErikEdward_ ), groans, _“Tom…”_ into his ear over and over.  He had woken from that dream because when Tom came, so had he—though by this point, Charles was so fucked up and out of it that he didn't even notice mess in his jeans and fell immediately into another dream.

         In this dream, he is still Tom, but now he is fucking, no— _making love_ , to a woman.  He loves her.   _My Jane, but not my Jane_ , flits through Charles’s thoughts, but it somehow doesn’t quite feel like his thought.   _A better Jane._  She is oddly beautiful for all that she is quite plain.  Their faces are both flushed with pleasure as he gently fucks her.  They share a soft smile as he runs his hands over her round, swollen stomach.  He can’t help but glow with pride at the life they created together.  When Edward’s long elegant hands join his in caressing Jane’s pregnant belly, his smile grows even more.   _"Isn't she beautiful, Tom?”_   Edward smiles, gazing at Jane.  

         Such a pleasant dream.  Charles smiles even in his sleep, so happy.  Then he frowns as the dream takes a strange turn, the images of Tom, Jane, and Edward overlaid with ghost images of Erik, Raven and him:

 

_"Do you think it will be a boy or girl/human or mutant?” Edward/Erik asks, giving Tom/Charles a sweet, gentle kiss._

_“Does it matter, love?”_

_“I suppose not. As long as our child and our beautiful wife/Raven are healthy.” They both smile at Jane/Raven as Tom/Charles continues pleasuring her._

 

          Charles struggles to free himself from this increasingly disturbing dream, but only succeeds in making it worse:  

 

          _Raven’s breath is hitching, coming in soft gasps as she gets closer.  “Charles, Charles!”  God, but he loves her like this!  Her golden eyes heated, lovely blue skin pleasure-flushed, strong legs wrapped tightly around his waist pulling him into her heat. He kisses her, rocking into her harder, “So beautiful, so perfect—and you’re ours, all ours.”_

_“I love watching the two of you together,” Erik says, running his hands over their straining bodies.  “My two dear lovers.”_

          _Raven is moaning steadily now, so very, very close.  Charles is trying not to come.  Somehow he knows this isn't right, but she feels so incredibly good and Erik is finally touching him like he’s always…_

 

 

          Charles jerks awake with a mighty gasp, then flops back on his pillow, chest heaving, and rubs his shaking hands over his face.  “Jesus Christ!”  

          That last dream was _seriously_ fucked up and he hopes he wasn't projecting.  He is now embarrassingly aware of the stickiness in his pants, though it is with great relief he realizes it is not ‘fresh’. However, he is still so hard that he is now practically curling up into a ball to relieve the pain and knows that his erection is not going to go away on its own.  Well, he needs to change clothes anyway, and figuring that he’s got nothing to lose at this point, Charles kicks off the blankets ( _Why are my shoes still on?_ ), shimmies his jeans and underpants down over his slim hips, and gives into a luxury he only rarely indulges:  fantasizing about Erik.  It’s just too dangerous to do often. Charles is afraid that he will lose control and accidentally project.  But more than that, he’s afraid that he will start wanting it too much—so he keeps those desires locked away, even from himself. Tonight though, fuck it—he deserves to be selfish.  Charles recalls the dream in which Tom’s hands had been bound and imagines himself in Tom’s place, his hands bound over his head as Erik slowly fucks into him.  He imagines hearing Erik's voice whispering, groaning, filthy love words into his ear, driving Charles toward that same mindless pleasure that Tom had felt. Doubling his thrill, is the added danger of allowing his fantasy-self to say things to fantasy-Erik that real Erik can _never_ , ever hear.  Although he is vaguely aware of the cold, Charles is so caught up in his fantasy, his eyes so tightly shut, that he doesn’t see his breath frosting in the air as his breathing grows deeper and harsher.  He comes almost embarrassingly quick, nearly sobbing with the intensity of his orgasm and only barely stops himself from crying out Erik’s name.

           The orgasm wipes him out.  He is suddenly so exhausted that he doesn’t even have the strength to get out of bed to clean up.  It is all he can do to pull the blankets back over himself before at last falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.  He wakes only once more during the night, groggy and sleep-drugged, and in the darkness thinks he sees a man sitting in the chair by his bed. He manages to mumble out, “Dammit, Er’k!  Whadda doin' m’ room?”  but, again, immediately falls back to sleep and doesn’t see the man‘s scowl at his mention of Erik.

 

          And in his sleep, Charles shivers violently as the temperature abruptly plummets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little more Charles-heavy than I'd been intending. Not creepy, but I do think I may have managed to achieve *mildly* creepy.


	3. Letters and Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles finds some letters tucked into the journal...and dreams again.
> 
> Edited 3/7/15

           

 

          When Charles wakes the next morning, he’s exhausted and a more than a little worse for wear, still out of sorts from the strange dreams he’d had—especially the last.  He may require therapy to get over that one.  The only thing that motivates him to get out of bed is the thought of reading more of Edward’s journal ( _And definitely a shower,_ he grimaces as he pulls off his blankets).

          After his restless night, he is still tired and still pissed off at everyone, so the idea of spending a day in utter solitude is just the ticket.  He forces himself to get up and shower, sighing blissfully as he washes away the dirt and grime and…other things from the previous night.  Remembering how cold the attic was, he makes sure to dress in something warm, and on second thought also grabs a blanket and pillow so he can get really comfortable while he reads.  He quietly makes his way down to his now-disaster of a kitchen to find food (his temper flares again at the sight of the scorch marks and the holes in the ceiling and wall), then heads to the attic to hide out from everyone. Thankfully, he manages to avoid running into anyone along the way—especially Erik and Raven. He‘s not sure he could look at them after that last dream.

 

 

**Excerpt from the Private Journals of Edward Rochester:**

 

_I was quite harsh with Tom today. I’d dreamed about him last night, dear Journal. A dream of a most erotic nature. I found myself quite unable to look him in the eye this morning and was unusually curt with him, setting the tone for the day, as my Irishman can be quite hot-tempered when he feels he has been treated unjustly. Heaven help me, but his anger-flushed cheeks merely served to accentuate the blue of his eyes and red of his lips, bringing even more to mind my dream from the previous night, in which we had made vigorous, passionate love. I had to abruptly take my leave in the middle of our conversation as I would have given myself away had I stayed in the room with him. He took further offense at, what to him, was a very rude dismissal—but I could not explain myself. I had to let him think I was angry at him. I must find a way to redeem myself. I do not like it when he is angry or hurt, and I especially do not like being the one to cause that hurt. I suppose I shall have to apologize, though being the arrogant man that I am, that pains me, as well. Thankfully, Tom’s temper usually burns out almost as quickly as it flares. He will still be hurt, but he will be more accepting of my apology. Perhaps I will also have Cook make Tom’s favorite meal and dessert for our supper tomorrow._

                                                                                                                                                               

**_Edward Fairfax Rochester, November, 1840_ **

 

 

 

**Excerpt from the Private Journals of Edward Rochester:**

 

          _My feelings for Tom only grow stronger with every passing day, though my love for Jane has not diminished in the slightest.  How can this be? How can I love two people so very much without one love taking away from the other?  Is this a gift that I am a fool to question or am I simply being a fool because I wish it to be true?  How can he not suspect how I feel?  Though I try to hide it, surely he can see in face, in my eyes what he means to me.  Sometimes, I think that I see my feelings reflected in his eyes but I fear that I am only seeing what I wish to see. I cannot risk it.  I will have his friendship if I cannot have his love.  He is that precious to me, dear Journal, that I suppress my own wants to keep him near me.  I will love him in the privacy of my own mind, where my perversions can harm no one.  The love of my Jane cushions the blow, of course.  And the love of my son._

_Though I hate that it must be so, tomorrow I must leave Thornfield to travel abroad. I will be gone for a month to attend to other business. Jane will remain at Thornfield with our son.  I cannot express how much I will miss her sweet countenance.  Tom will remain at Thornfield as well.  He argued most vigorously to be allowed to accompany me: “What is the use of a barrister, if I am not there to attend to your legal matters?”_

_In truth, I could use his assistance—but I do not believe that I could not resist the temptation to make him mine, were we to be alone and in such close company for an extended period.  No, he must remain at Thornfield—it is not as if he is not of use there.  I know that I am sparse with praise, but I trust Tom implicitly to handle any and all matters concerning my home and family._

 

**_Edward Fairfax Rochester, February, 1841_ **

 

 

 

            _My Dearest Edward,_

_It is only distance that gives me the courage to speak honestly.  Since you have been away from Thornfield Hall these last two weeks, I find myself missing you terribly and my days are less bright for your absence.  Why, I know not, as you vex me horribly with your constant sniping and superior ways.  But Edward, how can it be that you manage to vex me even more with your absence?  One would think I would be relieved to not hear an endless stream of unfounded complaints and brusque orders of 'Tom do this, Tom do that', but no.  I miss our verbal sparring matches and the unfettered joy of telling you how wrong you are about everything you say.  I should be elated that you are away, instead, I long for your companionship and count the days until you return to Thornfield._

_Forgive me for burdening you with this bout of…melancholy.  But I cannot go another day without talking to you in some small way.  With any hope this letter will not find you, and when you have returned to Thornfield this flight of fancy will have passed and all will be as usual._

_Yours in Truth,_

_Thomas_

 

_Thomas,_

_We will talk when I return to Thornfield._

**_EFR_ **

 

 

          Tom has spent the last week alternately depressed and terrified.   _Why did he write that damned letter!?_  He’d immediately regretted posting it, but by then it was too late. It was done.  Once more, he’d given in to his impulsive nature and had ruined everything!  Edward’s curt response was hardly encouraging.  Edward was going to send him away, he just knew it!  The man barely seemed to tolerate him as it was.  Tom already had most of his belongings packed and had cleared his desk of all of his work.  He was hoping to, perhaps, receive a decent recommendation based on the work he had done up until now.

          Now, he watches from where he has himself concealed as Edward arrives home to Thornfield Hall, smiling broadly at the sight of his wife and son waiting for him.  He watches while they run to his arms and he embraces them tightly, the loving family together at long last. Tom’s heart clenches with jealousy, at the same time it lifts a bit as, even while Edward holds his family, he appears to be searching for someone.  Edward has finally noticed Jane‘s pinched expression, and Tom listens from his hiding place as they converse:

         

_“What do you mean, my love?”_

_“He’s been very quiet, Edward.  He’s hardly spoken a word to anyone, not even to me, unless I address him directly.”_

_“Is he ill?”_

_“I don’t know.  I have never seen him like this.”_ Jane suddenly looks alarmed _,  “Edward, you didn't write that you were planning to dismiss him, did you!?”_

_“No! No! Of course not! Never!”_

          Tom’s knees go weak with relief.

          _“Oh, thank goodness! Tom is part of our family—we cannot lose him.”_

          Tom feels so horribly ashamed, hearing her words. He doesn’t deserve her friendship after what he had done.

          Edward sighs _, “I’m afraid he may have misunderstood the contents of my letter.”_

In spite of his shame, Tom’s heart pounds wildly.  

          Edward drops a gentle kiss on Jane’s head and smiles. _“I will talk with him, Jane. Everything will be fine, you’ll see.”_

 

         Tom has slipped away and returned to his desk pretending to work, waiting for Edward to enter and tell him how he returns Tom‘s feelings.  Instead, he is startled as Edward enters the room looking very stern and forbidding, indeed.  “Thomas.”

         Trying to hide his fear and confusion (this is not at all what he‘d been expecting), Tom stammers out, “Y-yes, sir?”

         “Come with me, please.  We need to talk.”

         Feeling sick, Tom follows as Edward leads him outside.  “What is it that you wanted to discuss, sir?”

         Edward ignores his question and leads him to the barn.  Tom’s shoulders droop and he follows dejectedly, figuring that Edward already has a horse saddled up for him.

 

           “Who do you think you are, sending a letter like that to me?” Edward growls at him.  Tom is having a difficult time answering at the moment.  “I asked you a question, Thomas?  Who do you think you are, sending a letter like that to me?"

          “I-I-ahhh!” Tom gasps as Edward hitches him higher, grinding their hips together.  “Oh, my God! E--”

          “You tease!” Edwards groans, his face buried against Tom‘s neck.  “You knew what that letter would do to me, didn't you?”  He thrusts his hips against Tom’s more frantically.  “Nearly drove me mad, waiting for this.  Waiting for you.”  

          Tom is panting so hard that his breath is coming out in little whines and he is struggling to press closer to Edward.  He is so close to coming and drops his face against Edward’s shoulder as his orgasm builds.  

          Edward grabs a handful of Tom’s hair and wrenches his head back, causing Tom to moan obscenely.  “Oh no!   _No!_  I want to see your face, Thomas!  I need to see the face that’s been haunting my dreams…”  

          Staring into each other’s eyes, they both cry out together.  Then they collapse in each other’s arms.  Tom is laughing and crying, kissing Edward’s face, “I tried to fight it, Edward.  I tried so hard, but I couldn't fight it anymore and I wrote that letter.  When I received your response, I thought you were going to send me away!  I thought you were going to send me away from you!”

          As Tom cries, Edward holds him tight and strokes his hair. “Oh, Tom!  Tom, I could never send you away.  I love you too much.”

          Tom looks up at him with his heart in those wide blue eyes.  “I love you, too, Edward.  I don’t know why, but I do.  So very desperately!”  

 

          They ignore the cold November weather to make love again, this time not as frantic.  Afterwards, they clean up as best they can and leave the barn to return to the house.  

          In spite of his joy at finally being with Edward, shame evident on his face, Tom asks quietly, “Jane…?”  

          The look on Edward’s face is uncompromising.  “My feelings for my wife have not changed.  I will not leave her.  I do not want to leave her.”  Then his look softens, “But I love you, too.  And now that I've had you, I won’t be able to give you up.  Can you live with that, Tom? Being my secret love?”

          “I would live with much to be with you.”

 

 

           Charles’s eyes flutter open and he stares at the rafters.  He is laying on the floor in the attic, the open journal on his chest and the two letters fanned out on the floor next to him.  He’d apparently fallen asleep after reading, and had been dreaming again.  He’d been awakened this time by a familiar…tapping (for lack of a better word) against his brain.  Raven.   _Suddenly there came a tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping against my cerebral core._  He snorts at his own wit.

          < _< Yes, Raven…?>>_  

          _< <Charles, are you ok?>>_

_ <<Yes, Raven.  I’m fine.  Is there something you needed?  I’m a bit occupied at the moment.>> _

          _< <I—we—were just worried about you.>>_

_ <<I told you--I'm fine.>>  _He tries to tamp down his annoyance at being bothered.

          _< <But you missed breakfast, and lunch…and then you _ _didn't show up for dinner... >>_

           Startled, Charles sits up. << _What time is it?_ >>  

_ <<It’s already dark out.>>_

There’s  no way  he’s been up here that long.   _< <Well, I’ll be down in a bit.>>_

_ <<Did you want supper? We ordered take-out.>>_

_ <<Just set it out for me, I’ll be down in a bit.>>_

  _ <<_ _Well…alright, then. >>_  He can tell she’s starting to get pissed off. << _But..._ >> 

_ <<Good_night _, Raven. >> _

Quoth the now pissed-off Raven, _ <<Yeah, whatever.>> _

 

  Charles gathers up the journal and the letters he’d found inside.  Man, that was some dream he'd had!  He looks down at his jeans.   _Oh, bother._  As fucking cold as it is up here, one would think that it would be too uncomfortable to get that aroused, but apparently not. Oh, well...he'd better go ahead and take care of this now—maybe he'll actually be able to get some real sleep tonight.

          As he "takes care of this", once again, he doesn't notice his breath frosting in the air...or the frost forming in the darkest corner of the attic, where that same tall shadow figure stands watching.


	4. Sweet Dreams (interlude)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleep has mercy on Charles and his dreams tonight are a more pleasant sort...a very short little interlude to give Charles a break.
> 
> Edited 3/7/15

 

 

          Charles makes his way to the kitchen to grab some water and the containers of leftover take-away.   _Cold._  Of course, it is.  There’s no stove left on which to heat it.  And even if there was a stove, the electrical outlet is ruined. _Don’t think about it, don’t think about it._  He putters around for a fork and tries to think of something positive.   _At least it’s Fall, Charles—you don’t have to worried about the food having spoiled from the heat._ Surprisingly, that actually does make him feel a little better.  He’s suddenly aware of just how hungry he is and he shovels the food into his mouth, straight from the container, as he walks to his room.

          He actually does manage to sleep decently that night.  He’d been worried that his earlier reading material combined with his late meal would to make sleep, literally, a nightmare.  But his full tummy and warm, comfy pajamas go a long way toward helping him relax into a normal sleep.  Once or twice during the night, dreams creep up on him that threaten to be strange and disturbing, but for some reason they never quite take hold.  So for the most part, his dreams are “normal” (as much as dreams _can_ be normal): Raven sprouts wings and flies overhead, cawing that he’s getting a bald spot ( _Lying bird!,_ his dream-self shouts, shaking a fist at her); Erik is a penguin who runs a bakery—but don‘t dare ask to sample anything or he’ll turn into a _shark_!; Charles runs through a field with a boot on his head, chased by a gang of butterflies before barely making a get-away in his tree-car.  Only once during the night does he stir, disturbed because his nose is icy cold.  He never really wakes all the way, just burrows deeper into his blankets until all that can be seen is hair, and he is soon fast asleep.  

         The figure standing next to Charles’s bed gazes down fondly on the mop of soft brown hair, then smiles gently as soft (and not-so-soft) snores begin emanating from the pile of blankets.  He knows that he shouldn't have touched him yet, but that sweet, freckled nose had just been far too adorable to resist.

 

          He’d never been able to resist Tom.  


	5. One-Sided Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles wakes in a much better mood. Reading an entry in Edward's journal leads to a rather one-sided discussion about the sorry state of Charles love life. Edward is by turns fascinated and a little horrified. When Charles (who has no clue that Edward is actually listening to him) determines that what he needs is a night out on the town, Edward is not happy. 
> 
> (P.S. Neither is Erik)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Charles is singing along with is 'Nowhere to Run' by Martha Reeves and the Vandellas. It wasn't actually recorded until 1965, but it was so utterly perfect for the story that I used it anyway. And really, what's a measly little year when it comes to Charles dancing, right? 
> 
> OP: I know this is getting very Charles-y, but I promise it is still Edward/Tom at the heart (with a sneaky bit of Cherik, cuz I'm a rebel like that).

     Charles wakes that morning and hops out of bed feeling exponentially better than he had the previous morning.  It’s truly amazing the wonders a good night’s sleep has done him.  He hops in the shower, hardly believing what a good he is in, and sings along with the radio (thankfully, no one can hear him--he knows his voice is terrible):

 

 

 

  
_Nowhere to run to, ba-by--nowhere to hide_  
 _Got nowhere to run to, ba-by--nowhere to hiiiide_

  
_It's not love I'm running from--it's the heartaches that I know will come_  
 _'Cause I know, you're no good for me--but you’ve become a part of me_  
 _Everywhere I go, your face I see--every step I take, You take with me, yeeeah_

  
_Nowhere to run to, ba-by--nowhere to hide_  
 _Got nowhere to run to, ba-by--nowhere to hide_  
 _I know you're no good for me--but free of you I'll never be, no-ooo_

     His good mood continues and he goes about shaving and getting dressed, dancing to the music as he sings along--executing some moves that, had she seen them, would have left Raven both grudgingly impressed and hysterical with laughter.

 

 

 

  
_Each night as I sleep, into my heart you creep_  
 _I wake up feeling sorry I met you, hoping soon that I'll forget you_  
 _When I look in the mirror and comb my hair,_  
 _I see your face just a-smiling theee--re_

_Nowhere to run, to ba-by--nowhere to hide_  
 _Got nowhere to run to, ba-by--nowhere to hide_  
 _I know you're no good for me--but you've become a part of me-eee-ee_

_How can I fight a lover that's sugar sweet_  
 _When it's so deep, so deep, deep inside of me_  
 _My love reaches so high, I can't get over it_  
 _It's so wide, I can't get around it, no-ooo_

_Nowhere to run, nowhere to hiiiiide from you, ba-by_  
 _Just can't get away from you ba-by, no matter how I tr-yy-yyy_  
 _I know you're no good for me, but free of you I'll never be-eee-eee_

_Nowhere to run to, baby--nowhere to hide_  
 _Got nowhere to run to, baby--nowhere to hide…_

     Charles is all pumped up now and can’t wait to return to the attic and continue his reading.  No, his _research_.  Yes, _research_ …that sounds much less obsessive (he recognizes that he may be a little ‘overly involved’, but he just _has_ to know what happened to these people).  The others, they wouldn’t understand his interest in the journal and those letters.  But his love of research-- _that’s_ something they understand.  It also gives a better excuse, a less suspicious reason, for avoiding everyone.  They all know how caught up Charles gets in his research and they won’t question his absence too much.  Yes, _research_!   _Why_ didn’t he think of that before?  On the other hand, he supposes he could bring the journal and all down to his study.  After all, the lighting is much better…but no--that doesn’t feel quite right.   _Well, off to the attic it is, then…_

 

 

**From the Private Journals of Edward Rochester:**

_My love for Tom grows daily, dear Journal. How I long to share to be with him in every way. I wish to shout my love to the world, but it must remain secret. He knows not how he occupies my thoughts. What it would be like to hold him in my arms and breath in his scent? To card my fingers through his hair while I look into his so-blue eyes and see my passion mirrored there. Every touch I steal is heaven and hell combined. Each made all the more precious for the fact that I cannot touch him freely as I so long. My Jane suspects nothing, nor does Tom. Perhaps it is because my love for Jane remains true, in spite of the burning passion I feel for Tom. I still take most eagerly to my marriage, relishing in love-making with my dear wife. I should feel guilt at my duplicity but--heaven help me--I do not. What kind of man am I, that I could live this dual life?_  
 _I do not know for how much longer I can fight my feelings, dear Journal. Although my for Jane remains strong, undiminished, Tom makes me burn with a fire that I fear will consume me.  A fire that will consume us all._

                                                                                                                                                _Edward Fairfax Rochester, December 1840_

 

   

     “Oh my friend, I know how you feel.”  Charles pushes his glasses up on his head and sighs.  “If only there were more men like you.  Men who do not fear love. Men who acknowledge that love is not a structured black and white thing.  Men who understand that love is far too big a thing to be caged by societal expectations and mores.”  
     Charles’s self-imposed isolation is starting to get to him.  It’s nice to talk to someone about his feelings, even if no one is really there to hear him.  And now that he’s started, he can seem to shut up.  “It’s admirable how you love your Tom so passionately, but still have so much passion and devotion for your Jane.  I find myself a bit jealous that you were lucky enough to find them both.  It would be wonderful to have that kind of love.  In the past, I have to admit that I’ve not been particularly picky when it comes to my lovers.  I guess that‘s coming back to haunt me now.”  
     Charles stretches out on his blanket, arms folded behind his head.  Before he can stop himself, he says, “At least you had a chance, Edward. If I ever told Erik how I felt, he would kill me."  He smiles wryly, "I've never admitted that out loud before--that I have feelings for him.  That will have to be our little secret, my friend.  Fucking hell, it’s cold in here!”  He shivers and pulls his cardigan tighter around himself as an icy draft cuts through him. “ _Brrrrrr!_ Anway, like you,” he continues on, “I love men, too.  Don‘t mention it to the CIA, though,” he tells “Edward” (he would be shocked to know that Edward is, in fact, listening on in horrified fascination), “they’d put me in prison.  My love for men is considered a perversion even in this time, so we’ll let this bit of information remain our little secret, as well, shall we?  Fortunately for me, I quite love women, too.  But then, I’ve always tended to find myself attracted to the person, not their gender.”

     His expression takes on a dreamy, far-away look, “Ah, yes. Women.  So beautiful and sexy, with their soft, rounded curves and ripe, luscious bodies so warm and good-smelling…” he comes back to himself, blushing, and clears his throat, “Ehm, well…,”

     Suddenly, he covers his eyes and whimpers in misery, “God, I need to get laid!  There are _nuns_ who have a more active sex life than me.  The only action I've gotten lately is my recent orgy with Rosie Palm and her five sisters.”  He looks at his hand apologeticly, "No offense, darling--I'll always love you--but I'm afraid we need to start seeing other people."

       He sits up.  “Yes!  Yes, of course!  That’s _exactly_ what I need!  I need to get out of here and have night out on the town!  It’s been _ages_ since I’ve cut loose.  I’ll hit a bar and find a warm, willing woman to lose myself in for a few hours…or,” he grins wickedly, “if I’m feeling brave, perhaps a warm, willing _man_ to lose himself in _me_.”  
     He jumps up and grins at “Edward”, “Yes!  That‘s what exactly what I‘m going to do!”  He sets the journal back in its place (ready for tomorrow) and prepares to head back downstairs to get ready for his ‘night on the town’.  As he flips off the light to the attic, he throws a wave and a cheeky grin, “Thank you for the sound advice, my friend!”  
  
     Edward’s dumbfounded, horrified expression is almost comical.   _How did that just happen!?_ This was not what he had intended, not at all.  But in spite of his displeasure at this turn of events, he will be the better man.  He will forgive Tom for his weakness this once.  He knows that Tom is young and it _has_ been a long time since they've been together.  At least Tom is seeking a stranger on whom he can satisfy his base lusts, saving his true love for Edward.  

     His expression then grows a bit frightening. This _Erik_ that Tom has mentioned, though---Edward will have to keep an eye on him.

   

  
     Charles all but runs to his room to get ready for his night out.  He quickly strips down and jumps in the shower again ( _Can‘t hit on the chicks if I’m smelling like a moldy old attic!_ ).  Then he digs through his wardrobe for something that makes him look like the hot, twenty-something man he is, instead of the nerdy old professor that Raven accuses him of being.   _Nothing too dressy, but nothing too casual._   At last he stands in front of the mirror:  tan slacks, brown tweed jacket (the one with the suede elbow pads--he loves that one), matching tie, blue button-down that matches his eyes, hair tamed into a style.  He strikes a pose, then grins and blows a kiss at himself.   _Oh, ladies, you don’t stand a chance tonight!_ _Grrrrrrrrr!_

     Charles struts through the house, whistling to himself, excited about his upcoming adventure. He passes the kitchen where everyone is gathered around the table, eating take-out…again.  He’s in such a good mood, he doesn't even glare at them tonight.  
     Raven lets out a long wolf-whistle.  “ _Charles!_   What’s up with the fancy duds!?  Hey, are you going to join us for dinner tonight?  We’ve got take-out!”  
     Sean pipes up, “Yeah, Charles! You’re looking _smoooooth_ tonight!  Have dinner with us!  We haven’t seen you in days, man!”  
     Alex, and Hank are just staring at him, openmouthed.  Angel is openly undressing him with her eyes (so is Erik--though he will deny it to his dying day, fortunately Charles hasn't noticed).  
     “Sorry guys, I can’t tonight! I’m going out!”  
     “Going out? Where?” Erik finally finds his voice, unable to hide his disapproval.   _Why does he need to go out to find someone?_  
     “Out.”  Charles answers.  As he walks out the door, Charles turns around and gives them all a wink and says, “Don’t wait up for me.”

     “ _Ooo-kay_ ,” Raven says to the stunned group. “Anybody wanna tell me what the hell _that_ was all about?”

 


	6. Strange Things Afoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles comes home from his night on the town, the kids worry that they've broken him, and Erik proves that he isn't always an ass. And now, Erik is starting to notice (and see) some strange things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About 1/2 way through...I think.

  
     The next morning, Charles stumbles through the back door into the kitchen, reeking of booze and cigarettes, looking like a walking cliche' of every drunken one-night stand in history.  There are no doubts to anyone seated at the breakfast table about how _his_ night went.  Everything from his bleary eyes, chaotic hair, rumpled shirt (mis-buttoned, of course), loose tie, right down to the lipstick on his collar, tells the whole story without Charles having to say a word.  
     He winces when Raven’s impressed whistle stabs into his head like an ice-pick ( _‘Or a coin…,’_ his subconscious whispers), “Jesus, Charles! I haven’t seen you do the Walk-of-Shame since Oxford!”  
     All he can manage in response is a bleary glare and a two-fingered salute, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like, “Piss off!”, as he staggers off to find his bed.

  
     “He’s not acting like himself,” Raven says, looking worried.  “I mean, he’s always been a little _different_ , you know--and kind of a whore when he was younger--but lately, he’s just been acting _strange_.  Tell me I’m not the only one that’s noticed.”  
     “You don’t think we finally broke him, do you?” Alex asks.  
     “You mean, because you destroyed the kitchen again?” Sean and Hank ask.  
     “Hey! I didn't do it by myself, you assholes!” Alex snarls.  Then says quietly, “But, yeah.”  
     “Charles has a lot to deal with and we haven’t exactly been pitching in to help, not even taking into account destroying the kitchen…again,” Raven adds, looking shame-faced.  All of them are now.  “I think he may have snapped.”  
     Angel puts her two cents in, “Maybe if he had someone to talk to, he wouldn't be so stressed out.  You know, if _someone_ wasn't constantly being an asshole to him.”  
     All of the kids turn to glare at Erik…but his chair is empty.

  
     Charles is going to die.  His head has not hurt like this since the first time he’d used Cerebro.  And he’s sure that his stomach is literally trying to kill him.  He sort of collapsed on his bed on the way to the bathroom and is now just laying there in a limp, crumpled heap, unable to find the energy to move.   _Oh, God, my head!_   He is aware of the door to his room opening, and through one bleary eye sees Erik walk in and quietly set a glass of water a couple of aspirin on the nightstand.  
     Erik smiles sympathetically at Charles. “Think you can handle a little water?”  
     Charles thinks about it for a second, then gingerly nods and weakly pushes himself up to a…not quite sitting…but rather a slightly more upright position.  As Erik goes to hand him the aspirin, Charles suddenly turns green and leaps out of the bed, racing to the bathroom and falling to his knees just in time to vomit violently into the toilet.   _Good God! What in the hell did I drink last night!?_  
     Erik sits beside him on the floor and pushes Charles’s sweaty hair back from his face and rubs soothing circles on his back, as Charles prays for death in between bouts of vomiting.  During a lull in the action, Erik gently wipes his hot, sweaty face and neck with a blessedly-cool damp cloth and lets Charles lean back against his chest to rest.  
     After Charles has finally stopped vomiting, Erik helps him up so that he can wash up a bit and clean his teeth.  Then helps him change into his pajamas and getps him into bed.  “Here, now. Take these.”  He helps Charles (now limp with exhaustion and barely conscious) take the water and aspirin.  Then, he tucks the blankets around Charles and asks, “Think you’re going to be alright, now?”  
     Charles’s answer is a grateful, sleepy smile.  One that says _“Thank you.”_ and that all is forgiven for the their fight earlier in the week.  Erik can’t hide his own smile, letting Charles know that he understands what he’s trying to say.  Then Erik shivers and looks around the room, frowning.  “Damn, Charles! It’s _freezing_ in here!  There’s no way you can be comfortable.  Do you want me to check the boiler for you?”  
     Charles gives him that sleepy little smile again and mumbles, _“Phhhuffmmumppsthyffd.”_    Which Erik rightly interprets to be, _“Thank you, my friend, I‘d appreciate that.”_  
     Erik smiles at him again, “Well, I’ll go take care of that now, and let you recover from your wild night.”  
     But Charles is already asleep--and dreaming.  Charles knows he’s dreaming because Erik would never have caressed his cheek and whispered, “But next time you need a wild night, come to me.”  Charles smiles in his sleep--now _this_ is a good dream.  
     Erik watches Charles sleep for just a moment longer.  He rarely gets the opportunity to simply look his fill--and after listening to Charles vomit for the last half hour, it‘s only fair to take advantage of this opportunity.  The little smile on Charles’s face makes something in his chest flutter and he reaches out to brush back Charles’s hair in order to get a better look at his face, but the sudden icy draft that cuts through him, makes him shiver and rub his arms and he remembers his offer to check the boiler.  He makes sure that Charles is covered up well, then turns out the light and shuts the door.  “Sweet dreams, Charles.”

     Edward watches the man walk out of Tom’s room--this _Erik_.  He is barely able to contain his rage that he man dared to touch Tom like that.  Even though he cannot blame the man for looking at Tom that way-- _touching_ \--touching is not allowed.  Tom belongs to Edward.  He especially does not like that this Erik made Tom smile that soft little smile.  

     Charles shivers and burrows into the blankets, his breath pluming out white as Edward leans down and whispers in his ear, _“Mine.”_

  
     When Erik steps over the threshold from Charles’s bedroom into the hallway, he can’t help but notice the almost abrupt temperature change.  He didn't notice it coming into Charles’s room because he’d too preoccupied at the time, but now it’s really obvious.  Something is seriously wrong with the boiler or ventilation system for Charles’s room to be so much colder than the rest of the house.  It was even making _him_ shiver--and he was used to living with no heat at all.  Definitely strange.  
     On his way to the boiler room, he catches a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye.  He turns to find out what it is, and sees Charles walk around the corner toward the study.   _What?!_    Charles had been sound asleep when Erik had left him.   _What is he doing downstairs...and_   _how did he get here so quickly?_  Erik follows, but when he rounds the corner...no one is there.  The hallway is empty.  He would swear that he’d seen Charles, but a quick span with his powers shows that Charles is, in fact, still in his room.  
     Erik frowns in confusion ( _I was so sure that I’d seen Charles_ ), but at last shrugs and continues on toward the basement.  He definitely needs to fix that boiler--it seems to be getting worse.  He shivers again.  The hallway is so cold, he can almost see his breath.  
  
     

     That was certainly a close call.  It was only at the last minute he’d realized that the man wasn't Edward.  The man almost saw him, but fortunately, he was able to hide just in time.  He’s got to be more careful.  It wouldn't do to reveal himself just yet.

      _Well, time to check on Charles._   _Got to make sure he's dreaming._


	7. Bad Dreams and More Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In addition to (or maybe because of) his lingering hangover, Charles has more bad dreams. He has a little confrontation with Raven, but he manages not to have a nervous breakdown. His mood picks up a bit after finding a packet of love letters. And someone decides to make sure that Charles gets some real rest.

          Charles tries hard to hold on to that lovely dream of Erik, but it flows away from him like quicksilver and another dream is already there to take its place:

          He is Tom and he is making love to Jane again, though in this dream she is not yet with child.  He runs his hands idly over her, chuckling indulgently as she stretches sinuously like a cat--very nearly purring under his hands.  He would never have imagined her to be so passionate.  He kisses her, then rolls onto his back, pulling her on top of him, both of them moaning in ecstasy as she sinks down onto him. _‘I love you’_ , they say to each other, smiling softly.  Then as one, they turn as one to look at Edward, holding their hands out to him, inviting him to join them--to make them complete.   _‘We know you love to watch us, Edward,’_ Tom says, _‘but we want you here.’_  
          Edward gladly joins them on the bed, kissing and caressing them both, but still urging Jane to focus on Tom. _‘You look so perfect together. I love seeing my two perfect lovers together,’_ Edward whispers to them.   
  
          _Oh, shit._   Charles feels a surge of dread that tells him that the dream is about to take a bad, bad turn, just like the other night.  And sure enough, the figures on the bed are once again overlaid with ghost images of Erik, Raven, and him.  Fearing what’s coming, Charles fights to wake up, but can’t--he’s too deep into the dream now:

          Almost drunk with pleasure, Tom-now-Charles, looks up into a pair of eyes that have shifted from softest blue to molten gold, and touches skin that has shifted from palest cream to an indescribably beautiful blue.   _‘Raven,’_ he moans, unsure if his moan is one of despair or pleasure, even as his hands slide down to grasp her hips, holding her steady as he thrusts.   
          Erik looks on in approval. _‘Perfection,’_ he thinks, letting Charles hear his thought. _‘My two favorite shades of blue, your eyes and Raven’s skin, on display for my pleasure.’_   
          The touch of Erik’s mind against his own, makes Charles shudder. _‘Erik!’_   
          Being allowed inside Erik’s mind, just that little bit, is even more arousing to him than being inside Raven, and he reaches over and pulls Erik down into a kiss. ( _‘Forgive me, my friend,’_ he thinks with that part of him that knows he’s dreaming).  Now it is Raven who is looking on in approval.  Erik’s not the only one who likes to watch.   
          _‘Forgive me.’_ he thinks again, as his dream-self breaks the kiss with Erik to roll Raven ( _or is it Jane? He‘s not sure anymore_ ) onto her back, settling between those lovely thighs and begins slowly, almost leisurely fucking her.  He loves the sounds she makes and the feel of her skin against his--the little scales are surprisingly supple, like tiny caresses--as their bodies move together (though there is another part of him that registers the feel of her skin as smooth, almost velvety against him).  Erik encourages them to perform for him.  He makes no secret of just how much watching them together affects him.  Charles loves seeing Edward, no-- _Erik_ , pleasure himself while watching them.  Then he and Raven lock gazes, unable to look away from each other as they near their peak. _‘So fucking beautiful,’_ he tells her.  
          _‘Just imagine her pregnant with our child, Tom. Imagine how much more beautiful she will look.’_ Erik… _or Edward?_ …( _everything is getting all mixed up_ ) gasps out as he, too, gets close.  
          Charles is still fighting the dream, but for the briefest moment he is Tom again and almost gives in to the almost overwhelming pleasure he’s feeling with Jane.  But at the very last moment, the sweet, pale face into which he is gazing _ripples,_ shifting to blue as she shudders beneath him and cries out. _“Charles!”_   
  
          Charles jerks awake. “Raven, God!”  He is so hard and throbbing from his dream, so close to coming, that that even the feel of his clothes brushing against him could send him over the edge.  He‘s not sure his sanity would survive it.  He lays there very, very still.  His fists are clenched so hard that he knows he’s cut into his palms--he doesn‘t dare move, though.  When his erection has subsided somewhat (though, to his shame not gone away), he rolls over on his side and retches--feeling sick in a way that has nothing to do with his lingering hangover.

          “What the fuck is wrong with me?!” he moans in misery. “That’s my fucking sister!”  He winces at his unfortunate choice of words and curls into a ball, clutching his stomach.  “Why do I keep having these fucked up dreams!?”  
          He’s getting really worried.  Even with his telepathy constantly picking up on the dreams of others over the years, for the most part, his dreams have always been fairly benign. But _these_ \--these dreams lately are really fucked up.  He’s not sure he can take another dream like that one.  So far, his sanity has only survived because he’s managed to wake up from the dreams before he climaxed with Raven (just the thought makes his stomach roll again) and by reminding himself that that she is adopted.  In addition to everything else, he’s terrified of projecting dreams like that to Raven or Erik.  He’d die of shame if that happened.  Then again, Erik would kill him before he even had time to die of shame.   _‘See Charles--every cloud really_ does _have its silver lining,’_ he thinks.  Then he scrubs his hands over his face, “What has become of my life that the thought of being murdered is a good thing?”

          He takes a look at the clock beside his bed: one o’clock.  Then he braves a look at the heavy drapes over the windows and sees light around the edges. Afternoon, then.  His head is still hurting (though it‘s much better than earlier), but he decides to get up and shower, then find something to eat before heading up to the attic to look over the journal.  For the first time in days, he really doesn’t give a shit about the journal--he’s just desperate to take his mind off of that dream.  
 _‘I’m never drinking again,’_ Charles thinks as he tries to revive himself in the shower. _‘Never again.’_    Until the next time, anyway.  

          And if he maybe thinks about a pair of gray-green eyes while he wanks in the shower…well, he’s only human.  


          Avoidance is the name of the game today.  Charles sneaks down to the kitchen, hoping to avoid everyone.  He's trying to move in stealth-mode--it’s common misconception that he always knows where everyone is at every second.  Sometimes people really _do_ think of absolutely nothing, and when they do that, they don‘t register to him.  And sometimes, like today, he is so focused on single goal (in this case, _hiding_ ), that he doesn’t pay attention to what is around him.  That is why, to his utter horror, he runs smack into Raven.   She is trying to talk to him, but he can’t even bring himself to look at her right now--maybe not ever again.   
          “Charles, I know you’re really mad about the kitchen, but you‘ve been avoiding everyone for days. We’re all really sorry and we intend to fix everything.”  
          He knows that she is hurt, but what is he supposed to tell her?  That he‘s avoiding her because he keeps having dreams about fucking her?  Somehow he can‘t see the explanation of, _‘I'm sorry, but I keep dreaming that I’m fucking you in front of Erik--and liked it’_ , going over too well.  
          “I’m not mad,” he says, knowing that’s _exactly_ how he sounds.   _Please, I just want to get away and hide._   
          “Charles, you’ve never been mad at me for this long, before!”  
          “I said that I’m not mad,” he says, still not looking at her, and knowing that he _does_ sound mad.  
          Raven is almost crying now.  “Charles, _please_ , I’m sorry!  Please don’t be mad at me anymore!”  
          He doesn’t answer, and just continues get his food ready.  
          “Fine!”  Raven _is_ crying now and turns to walk out of the kitchen.  
          He sighs deeply, shoulders slumping.  He can’t just let her walk away like that--no matter how much he wants to.  “Raven, wait.”  
          “What!?” she sniffles.  
          Charles walks over and pulls her into a one-armed hug.  She starts sobbing and throws her arms around him.   _Don’t get a boner. Don’t get a boner. Don’t get a boner._   “Raven, I’m not mad at you. I swear.”  
          “Yes you are! You hate me!”  she sobs.  
          “No, I don’t hate you, love.  I _was_ mad about the kitchen, but I’m not anymore.  I’m only in a foul mood today because I’m hung-over and my head still hurts.” There, now, that wasn‘t a _complete_ lie, at least.  In fact, it was almost true.   _Silver linings, Charles, silver linings_.  “There, now. Stop crying,” he says, wiping away her tears, and smiles at her.  “Everything’s ok, Raven--I promise.  I‘m just feeling a bit delicate at the moment, is all.”  
          Raven steps back and gives him a relieved, watery smile (he is ignoring that the tears give her eyes the illusion of shimmering--like they do in his dreams), “Ok. I _am_ sorry, Charles. You know, for not helping out more around here.”  
          Charles huddles into his cardigan and leans down to kiss her cheek.  “I know,” he smiles gently.  “Now go on and enjoy your day.  I’m going to go hide and recover from my night out.”  
          “That’s what you get for trying to act like you’re not an old man,” Raven laughs, her good nature stored, and flounces out of the kitchen.  
          As soon as she is out of sight, Charles collapses back against the counter and let out a shaking breath.  Were he an actor, that would have been an Academy-Award winning performance.  Thank God, he was able to pull away from her in time.  If she had hugged him again, they would both ended up going to therapy--he has an erection that could hammer nails.  Though he’s ashamed, he still has his pride, and snorts, “Old man, my arse!  The lady who took me to her flat last night didn’t think I was an old man--nor did her two flat-mates.”  Looking down at his pants, he says, “You know, you haven’t been this feisty in a long while, my friend.” _God that’s sad--now I’m talking to my dick,_ he thinks as he shuffles off to the attic.

 

 

**Back in the attic**

  
          To Charles’s genuine delight, he finds more letters between Edward and Tom.  He’d accidentally knocked the journal onto the floor and when he bent down to pick it up, he’d found a packet of letters wedged in behind the trunk.  They were in worse shape than the journal, but still better than what one would have expected.  Charles very carefully starts going through them.  The letters are very brittle and the writing is very faded, so he already knows that this is going to be a slow-going process, but he is excited to see that these appear to be love letters. _Well, that answers one question,_ he thinks.   
          It’s going to be dark soon, so Charles settles in and begins reading while the light is still decent.

  
          _My Dearest Edward,_

_I still cannot believe that you love me, as I love you.  That you’ve longed for me, as I’ve longed for you.  It is an impossible dream come to life.  Though the dream of you has been but a pale comparison to the reality of holding you in my arms and gazing into your lovely eyes.  The lightest of kisses from you have far exceeded even my most torrid fantasies of making love.  I think of you constantly and I search for every opportunity to be alone with you.  Forgive me if my work suffers just a bit.  I am quite overwhelmed by these feelings._   
_I cannot stop thinking of earlier this week, when you described to me how you like to be pleasured by mouth.  I wish to do that for you, my love.  I cannot stop thinking of it and I fairly tremble with excitement at the thought of pleasing you that way.  I know that I have always been a willful creature, Edward, but now I’m afraid that you have made me shamefully wanton as well.  Two more days until we have enough time alone to make love again, my dear.  I shall make it my mission to tease you mercilessly until then._

_Yours,_   
_Thomas_

 

 

  
          _Tom,_

_Be careful of what you wish for, my little mouse._

  
_EFR_

 

 

  
          _Edward,_

  
_Oh, my love.  Even the wee mouse still has teeth with which to bite._

  
_Tom_

 

 

 

          _My Lovely Thomas,_

 

_Well, well…It seems the wee mouse has claws, too.  Just keep your teeth to yourself while you’re keeping your promise to me._

_Until tomorrow, my wee mouse,_   
_EFR_

 

 

 

          Charles lets out a massive yawn as he reading the last line.  He’s sleepy and very cold. _Time to go to bed._   He gathers up the letters for tomorrow, but before he can finish, he nods off…and guess what?  He _dreams..._

 

          Only this time, someone is standing guard to make sure his dreams don't go so bad.   _Poor fellow needs a bit of a rest._

 


	8. Cerebro, Mutants, and Ghosts, Oh My!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles is starting to suspect that something hinky is going on. He has an interesting dream that turns out to not be a dream at all, then gets the bejeezus scared out of him. Hind-brain wants to run for it, but science-brain comes to the rescue. An amused observer takes notes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little break for Charles, before things get serious again.

          Even as Charles yawns and nods off there on the uncomfortable attic floor, there is a part of him which recognizes that he should not be sleeping this much--that his behavior lately has not been normal, perhaps not even natural.  But the scientist in him shrugs it off as nonsense and decides that it is just the enormous amount of stress he’s been under (coupled with the lingering effects of his hangover), making him so tired and prone to bad dreams.

  
          That little part of him which remains _aware_ , is deeply relieved when his first dream simply begins with him walking through a snowy field and all around him, as far as he can see in every direction, are beautiful, twinkling lights. The scene brings to mind Christmas and he smiles joyfully, feeling settled and at peace for the first time in days as he wanders about exploring.  Then he makes a surprised _“Oh!”_   when it suddenly dawns on him that those aren’t lights--they’re minds!  He is inside Cerebro.   
          He realizes, too, that those bright little minds are much closer than he’d thought, so he stretches out his hand and touches one.  
          _“Hello,”_ the little mind giggles, delighted.  It’s very young.  And it’s a mutant--a telepath!   
          Charles grins, equally delighted.   _“Hello there, little mind, I’m Charles.”_  
          _“Hello Charles. I’m Jean. Are you like me?”_  
          _“I believe so, Jean.  I can hear people‘s thoughts.”_  
          _“Yay!!! I can do that, too!”_ she laughs.  But then the little mind dims, sad, _“But my mommy doesn’t like it.”_  
          Charles nods in sympathy. _“My mum didn’t like it, either.  But maybe you can come to my school when you‘re older.  A school full of people like us where you won‘t have to hide.”_  
          _“Really?!”_   The little mind in his hand is practically quivering with excitement, rather like puppy.   _“Like us?”_  
          Charles grins, and says conspiratorially, _“Well maybe not like_ **us,** _Jean.  But people who can do special things like us.”_  
          _“Can I come now?”_  
          The longing in her voice is hard to resist, but he has to tell her, _“Not yet, sweetheart.  You’re still a little too young--and I’m still getting the school set up.  But when you’re older, I’ll find you.  I promise.”_  
          _“Really? You promise?”_  
          _“I promise.”_  
          _“Ok, then. I have to go to bed now.”_   
          _“Goodnight, Jean.  Sweet dreams.”_  
          _“Goodnight, Charles.”_  
          _“Aren’t you going to wish me sweet dreams, Jean?”_   Charles teases her.  
          _“I don’t need to. That other man--the one that looks like you--is making your dreams good tonight. Good night, Other Man.”_   And her bright little mind floats away, leaving Charles gaping like a fish as he realizes two things:  one, that this wasn’t a dream--he actually had that converstation with Jean.  And, two, if that wasn’t a dream, then…  
  
           “Fuck me!!”  Charles jumps to his feet, looking around in a blind panic, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on-end as it suddenly registers that it is unnaturally cold in the attic--he can see his breath.   _“You are not alone.”_ takes on a whole new meaning, one he definitely doesn’t like.  
           His science-brain is trying to talk sense to him, but his hind-brain yelling at science-brain to the fuck shut up and get them out of here.  Charles calms down a bit when science-brain counters with the theory that Jean was probably just talking about Erik (in a figurative sense, of course) and points out, when _hasn’t_ the attic been cold and drafty--there was probably just a cold front moving in or something to make it worse.   _Yes, of course!_   Now Charles feels really stupid.   _I’m glad no one witnessed that little episode, I would never have lived it down_.  Hind-brain goes off to sulk while science-brain reigns victorious once again. 

          To prove to himself that he’s not one to give in to silly notions like ghosts ( _‘Oh, as if!’_ he scoffs), he decides to spend the night in the attic.  After all, it’s really not as if his room is any warmer.  Besides, it’s late and he’s sleepy again now that the adrenaline has worn off.  So, giving hind-brain the cold shoulder, he and science-brain settle in for the night.

          _Well, he certainly wasn’t expecting_ that. _Witnessing that little interaction had been rather amazing really, but how did the little girl even see him?  For that matter, how did_ Erik _see him?  That had really surprised him, because that man had to be the_ least _fanciful creature he had ever encountered--honestly, there were wet mops with more sensitivity.   Under other circumstances, he would have been falling about with laughter watching Charles eyes bug out when the little girl had, oh-so-casually, mentioned the “Other Man”, but too much is at stake.   But, yes, he’ll definitely have to be more careful around this bunch._ Now back to work. _Charles is asleep again._


	9. Dreams...?  Or Something Else?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles has a dream (or does he..?) that gives a little insight into the nature of Edward's affair with Tom. Then he gets sort-of cock-blocked by Erik. And something happens that will force Charles to acknowledge that something unnatural is going on at the mansion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caveat: Awkwardly written sexy-times...
> 
> Forgive me--my most sincere apologies to you all for the badly written sexy-times. Tried to make it Victorian-ish (or at least, not too modern-sounding). Pretty much an epic fail. : (

  
Charles settles into his little nest and immediately falls asleep.  He dreams about Edward and Tom again, his dream obviously inspired by the teasing little love notes he’d read, and somehow he is both himself (as an observer) _and_ Tom (though it would probably be more accurate to say that he is not so much Tom, as that he feels what Tom feels).

           

           Tom and Edward have set out under the guise of “surveying the estate”.  They _do_ have legitimate business to conduct, but plan to spend the bulk of their time in their lovers’ nest (an abandoned cottage at the edge of the property).  It was their little haven, a place where they could make love with no fear of discovery by prying eyes.  
           Today he’s going to take Edward in his mouth. He’s thought of little else since Edward had first mentioned it, and he’s made good on his vow to tease Edward mercilessly--making sure that he’s thought of little else, as well.  Yesterday, whenever Edward was present, Tom would subtly (and sometimes, not so subtly) lick and bite at his lips, keeping them wet, shiny, and swollen.  He’d eaten all of his meals as if they were his last, savoring every bite, delicately licking at his fork and spoon, and making little noises of pleasure.  When he’d started in on the custard that Cook had served for dessert last night, Edward had excused himself from the table.  Tom had casually continued eating (that custard really _was_ sinfully delicious), but noted with mild surprise that Jane’s face appeared a bit flushed, too.  Out of simple curiosity, he’d thoroughly licked his spoon clean and made a decadent-sounding satisfied little sigh--and watched out of the corner of his eye as Jane’s cheeks did, indeed, redden.   _Hmmm…Interesting._  But never mind that.  
           Now, he can barely contain his excitement at what he is about to do.  He’d heard other men speak most reverently of having the act ( _fellatio_ , Edward had called it) performed on them by prostitutes, but he’d never experienced it for himself as he’d never required their services, thank you very much.  More than a few posh Society ladies were quick enough to lift their skirts for him and he most certainly enjoyed pleasing them with his mouth--but God forbid that _he_ should ask for the same in return.  The one time he’d dared, the ‘lady’ in question had reared back in offense and slapped him soundly.   _“What kind of woman do you think I_ am _, Mr. LeFroy?!”_  , she had demanded to know.  She had not cared for his answer.  He _still_  occasionally felt a phantom pain in his groin where she had kicked him.  
           Up until now, he and Edward have rutted and have used their hands on each other, but aside from kissing, have never used their mouths like that.  He would never have dreamed that he would wish to perform such an act on another man.  But when Edward had first spoken of it, Tom’s knees had gone weak with lust. Though, in truth, his knees often went weak with lust at the things Edward made claim to enjoy.  Things he spoke of when they lay sated in each other’s arms.  Dark and taboo things that Edward has learned of in the West Indies.  Things that Edward could not, _would not_ , do with Jane--she was far too innocent for such debauchery.  But, _Tom_ …Tom wanted to try them all.  He would do anything to please Edward.  And to him, these dark pleasures of which Edward spoke were utterly, outrageously, thrillingly scandalous.  He could not wait to explore every sensual pleasure and dark, decadent fantasy.  
           Edward, though--Edward was going to make him pay for teasing him so wickedly.  Normally, he has to nearly trot to keep up with Edward’s much longer strides, but today Edward is taking his sweet time surveying the property.  He is almost lazily strolling along, fully aware that Tom is all but gnashing his teeth in frustration.  What should have only taken a short time, is taking forever in Tom’s estimation.  They finally complete their actual work and make their way to the cottage, but Edward is still lingering about outside, appearing to be wandering idly (Tom can fully see the little smirk on the bastard’s face, though).  
           “Whatever _is the matter, Thomas?  You appear to be a bit agitated.”_  
           Tom grits his teeth, and smiling (though to both Edward and the observing Charles, it looks more like a grimace), says, _“Nothing, Edward. Nothing at all.”_  
            _“I can’t believe you’re not eager to enjoy this lovely, crisp fall day.  Why, I could linger out here for hours, just soaking up the sun and breeze.”_  
           Tom decides to fight dirty.  He smiles at Edward, cat-like, as he employs his secret weapon.   _“You’re right as usual, Edward, my dear.  It’s such a lovely, sunny day.  I don’t understand why you call the day ‘crisp’ though.  It feels quite warm to me.”_    Never taking his eyes from Edward, he unties his cravat and pulls his collar open, exposing the pale length of his neck and his delicate collarbones.  The little cat-smile still on his face, he lets his head fall back as his eyes drift closed. _“Mmmm, yes! That’s much better.”_  
           He hears Edward’s sharp intake of breath, but before he even has time to savor his victory, Edward has dragged him inside the cottage and shoved him against the wall.   _“You filthy little minx!”_ Edward growls between deep, bruising kisses (Tom loves it when Edward talks to him that way).   _“A courtesan could not compete with your shameless antics!”_  
           Tom has the audacity to look at Edward through his lashes and say innocently, _“I don’t know what you mean.”_  
           Edward groans and buries his face in Tom‘s neck, _“You know_ exactly _what I mean!  You know_ exactly _what you do to me, little mouse.”_    He cradles Tom’s face in his hands and gazes into his eyes, _“I am but an ill-fated sailor, destined to follow your seductive siren’s call even to my doom.”_  
           Tom caresses Edward‘s cheek.   _“I do nothing to you, Edward, that you do not do to me.  Do you think that my passion, my love, for you is not as hot or that it burns less brightly?”_    His hands slide down to grasp Edward’s lapels.   _“You are_ always _on my mind!  I think of you when I am awake, I dream of you when I sleep. When you make love to your_ wife _, I seethe with jealously, wishing it were me in your bed.  When you_ fuck _her, I’m glad because I know then that you are thinking of me.  And do you know what?”_   Tom smiles in fierce satisfaction, sliding to his knees, _“You_ fuck _her more and more lately, Edward.”_  
           Edward grabs a handful of Tom‘s thick hair forcing him to look up.   _“I love my wife, Tom.  I told you that my feelings for her have not changed.  And you told me that you could live with being my secret love.”_  
           Tom pauses in the act of unfastening Edward’s trousers, and says sarcastically, _“Of course, darling--anyone looking can see how you love her.”_    Then he sighs, defeated.   _“Forgive me, Edward. It’s just that I love you so, and I find that I do not like to share your affections.  I want to shout to the world that you are mine. But you’ve never misled me concerning your love for Jane.  And, in truth, I would not wish to see you two parted.  Your happiness is paramount to me.”_  
 _"My beloved little mouse, never think that I don't love you deeply.  As much as I love Jane, I could not bear to be parted from you, either.  You make me feel more alive than I ever have been.  My Jane has given me a reason for living, but you, Tom…you make me want to fully embrace that life.  She brought reason and order to my life with her gentle strength, but you have brought color and vibrancy to my life with your passion.”_  
          _"Then let me show very passionate I can be, Edward.”_  
  
           Afterwards, they lay panting in each other’s arms.  Edward quite relaxed and lazy, and Tom still stunned at what they had just done--what _he_ had just done, rather (so is Charles for that matter--he knew that it was as close as he‘d ever get to having Erik).  Tom is still trembling a bit.  He had been nervous at first, but his excitement and desire had quickly overridden his fears, and he was soon pleasuring Edward most enthusiastically.  If the litany of praise that Edward heaped upon him was any indication, Tom had a natural talent for the act.  Edward had been surprisingly gentle with him, letting Tom get comfortable with his size.  Finally Edward had ordered Tom to look up at him.   _“My God, you’re beautiful!”_   he’d groaned, then he’d cried out and came in Tom’s surprised mouth.  When Edward immediately dropped to his knees and kissed his still-full mouth, it had been the most unbearably erotic thing Tom had ever experienced.  
           Edward laughed outright when Tom’s first breathless words had been ask when he could do it again.   _“I believe I‘ve created a monster.”_    Tom had mock-pouted for a bit, then demanded that Edward tell him what they could do next time.  
          _“I want you to fuck me, Edward.  I want to feel you inside me.”_  
            _“Patience, Tom.  I’ve told you that you’re not yet ready.  I want it to be good for you, my love--and it is painful if you are not properly prepared.”_  
 _“Then prepare me,”_   Tom demands.  
           Edward smiles at him then, a dark smile that thrills Tom, making delicious little shivers run down his spine (Charles is completely on board with this little development).   _“Oh, Thomas, you’re not a wee mouse, after all, are you?  You’re a curious little cat.  Then come here, little cat, and let me make you purr.”_  
           What he does next has both Tom _and_ Charles seeing stars.

           

           Naturally, Charles is rudely awakened during the best part of the dream, by someone is pounding on the door, shouting his name.  He is disoriented at first, before remembering that he’d slept all night in the attic.  He shivers, having kicked the blanket off of himself during the night.  Yep.  Still cold as fuck--just like always.   _Take_ that _hind-brain!_

           “Charles!! Charles!!”  It’s Erik.  
           “What!?” he croaks.   _Oh, dear_ God _, what died in my mouth?!_  
           Pound. Pound. Pound.  “Charles, open the door!!”  
           “Alright! Alright, dammit!  I’m coming!  Keep your fucking pants on!”  
           Silence.  Then, “Charles? Did you just curse?”  
           Oops.  “Er…sorry about that.”  
           While Charles’s _internal_ dialogue is absolutely riddled with profanity, he very rarely ever curses aloud--and when he does, he  _never_  drops the F-bomb around other people.  He can spout out bad pick up lines and double-entendres to beat the band, but he keeps his fluency in profanity a mostly internal thing.  He must be more disoriented than he’d realized.  Not to mention, he’s still pissed off from being awakened just when his dream had gotten _really, really_ good.  He can’t believe that he just got cock-blocked by _Erik_ , of all people.  
           Finally, he shuffles over to the door and throws it open.  “Erik, the door wasn’t locked.  You didn’t have to pound it down, you know,” he says irritably.  
           Erik is looking at him oddly, not quite meeting his eyes.   _Oh, fuck._   “Er, I didn’t want to, er, walk in on you.  You know, er, in the, er, middle of something.”  His eyes are darting everywhere except Charles's face, and in fact, seem to be drifting down to the front of Charles’s jeans of their own volition.  
           “You mean _sleeping?_ ” Charles glares, trying to hide his mounting panic.   _Oh, please, no!_  
           Erik’s ears are red and he rubs the back of his neck, which is also red.  “Well, you, er…you were, umm, _dreaming_ , Charles.”  
            _Oh, fuck, no._ “What do you mean?”  
           Erik‘s voice is starting to sound a little strangled.  “You were, ummm, dreaming _out loud_ …”  
           Charles turns pale (paler, rather) and he knees give a little.  “Oh my God!”  
           Erik grabs Charles to keep him from falling.  “It’s ok, Charles!  It’s ok.  We’re the only ones here.  Everyone else is gone for the day.”  
           Now Charles is weak with relief.  Now there won’t be any witnesses to his murder and Erik won’t have to go to jail.  “Oh, my God! I’m so sorry, Erik.  Please forgive me!”  
           “Charles!  It’s ok.  There weren’t any, umm, images projected in your dream.”  Erik blushes, and looks into Charles‘s eyes, “Just, er… _feelings_.”  
           Is it just Charles’s imagination…or is Erik’s face suddenly closer than before?  
            _It is!_   Erik leans in even closer, still holding Charles‘s eyes.  “Sensations.”  
           Charles just stands there thunderstruck.   _Oh, God!  Erik is going to kiss him!  Erik Lehnsherr is going to kiss him!  And Charles Xavier is sure as fuck going to let him!_  
  
  
            But in the micro-second before their softly parted lips meet, their breath plums out white as the temperature plummets, and there is an almighty crash as the attic window shatters, spraying them with glass…

 

 


	10. Let's get to the Bottom of This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Erik decide to investigate the strange goings-on--but much to Tom's dismay, they get the right idea but the wrong players.

            When the window explodes inward, Charles and Erik instinctively curled into each other for protection.  Erik, who had been facing the window, buried his face in Charles’s neck, protecting his eyes and face.  Once the immediate danger was over, they pulled apart and started brushing away the glass, checking each other for damage.  Charles’s heavy wool cardigan had protected him from the worst of the spraying glass, and Erik’s arms had been protected when he’d slid them under the cardigan to wrap around Charles to shield him.   
            “Oh my God, Erik, are you alright!?”  
            “I’m fine, Charles.  Are you ok?”  Erik asks as he helps Charles carefully brush the glass out of his hair.  
            “I think so. Do you know what happened?”  
            “I don’t know, but something strange is going on here, Charles.  Did you feel how cold it got just before the window exploded?”  
            “Yeah.  But, it’s been cold like that in here for days, though.”   _‘Liar!’,_ Hind-brain shouts at him.  
            “Charles, this isn’t normal.  The rest of the house isn‘t cold like this.  Just here…and your room.”  
            “But, didn’t you check the boiler?”  
            “Yes, and there’s nothing wrong with it, Charles.  And the only other place that it’s been this cold was the hallway by your study--where I thought I saw you yesterday morning.  But when I followed, no one was there.”  
             Charles feels a chill go down his spine, suddenly recalling Jean‘s comment about ‘the other man--the one that looks like you…’.   
             "I wasn’t anywhere near my study yesterday morning. I was in bed most of the day. You know that.”  
             “I know--I checked. But I would have sworn that it was you I saw. The hallway was empty, though--and it was so cold that I could almost see my breath.  Just like today.  And when I left your room, I could feel temperature change as soon as I crossed the threshold.  I‘m telling you, it‘s not natural Charles.”  
             Charles can’t deny it to himself any longer.  He scrubs his hands over his face and tries to figure out the best way to broach this subject.  Finally, he walks over and picks up the journal, brushes off the broken glass, then hands it to Erik along with the daguerreotype of Tom and Edward.  “I think you need to see this, my friend.  I found it here in the attic the other day.”  
  
            The look on Erik’s face when he sees the daguerreotype is priceless. He looks at Charles in disbelief. “Wer sind sie?” _Who are they?_   
           

             That he has lost his command of English, tells Charles just how truly shaken up Erik is--the man prides himself on his control.  “Edward Rochester and Tom LeFroy.  If my dreams are any indication, Edward is the one who looks like you and Tom is the one who looks like me.”  Then he tells Edward the short version of strange experiences and the strange and disturbing dreams he’s been having (leaving out the bits involving Raven)--and especially about his conversation with Jean.  He ends his with, “I think Tom is the one trying to harm us. We need to go through this journal together and try to find out what he wants.”  
            Erik looks flabbergasted, but nods and agrees to help Charles. “Are you saying that the person I saw in the hallway was this Tom?”  
             “I think so. I haven’t seen him myself, except in my dreams--and in my dreams I am him or I feel what he is feeling.” Charles blushes, remembering the almost-kiss, between he and Erik.  “That’s the reason I was er…‘dreaming out loud’ this morning.”  
             Erik blushes and tells him, “I’m so sorry, Charles. I didn’t mean to take advantage of you. I would never force you to do something you didn-- _mmmfff_ \--!”   
He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as Charles grabs him and takes up where they left off when the window broke. As they kiss, they feel the temperature plunging again.  They break apart as Charles grabs his head and sways on his feet, from the pain of what sounds like a scream of rage echoing inside his head.  Erik grabs him and hauls him out of the attic, steadying Charles as he stumbles unable to stand on his own.

            Once they are out of the attic, the pain in Charles’s head lessens and he is glad to see that he managed to hang on to the journal.  It’s imperative that they find out what Tom wants and how to make him stop.  
            “Charles are you ok?”  
            “Yeah.” He looks at Erik, “Didn’t you hear that scream?”  
            “No. I just felt it get cold again and I heard you make a sound like you were in pain.”  
            “Both times it happened, was when I was getting ready to kiss you. I think that he’s jealous. Tom doesn’t want me to touch you. He must think that you’re Edward!”  
            “Let’s get to the bottom of this Charles!  I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”  
            “Nor I you.”   
            “Let’s go to your study and look into this, then.“  
            “Of course my friend.”  And together they take off toward the study.

            Tom is pacing back and forth in the corridor, all but wringing his hands.   _No! That’s not right! You’ve got it all wrong, you idiots! Now I’ve got to fix your mess before it’s too late!_

            In the corner of the attic another figure is pacing back and forth, enraged.   _He kissed Tom! And Tom kissed him back! Something has got to be done! Tom belongs to_ him!

  
  


 

 


	11. Right Play, Wrong Actors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Erik tackle the journal and letters and dig deeper into the mystery surrounding the strange occurrences at the Xavier Mansion. They're so close, but still haven't figured it out. Tom makes a bit of a tactical error by expressing his frustration at their inability to put two and two together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An internet/computer snafu left me unable to complete the story by either of the previous due dates. Hopefully, I'll have it done by the 16th. Maybe 3(ish) more chapters and it will all be over.

      **From the Private Journals of Edward Rochester:**

            _My affair with Tom (for that is what it has become, dear Journal) is growing increasingly more complicated.  Tom is generous with his body, but increasingly demanding of my time--often sulking when he knows I am with Jane.  I must constantly be on guard as he seems unable to keep from all but molesting me on sight (though, if am to be honest, I am no better).  I fear that soon Jane will realize what is happening under her very roof.  What will I do then, dear Journal?  I cannot lose her._ I cannot. _But neither can I can give him up.  My saving grace is that I can still say that Tom and I have not yet fully consummated our affair.  But we will.  It is only a matter of time, or should I say privacy.  He is most eager and nags me constantly, teasing me to the point of insanity with his begging.  I suppose I can also say that Jane has benefited somewhat from this, as she has smiled most fetchingly and blushingly commented that my lovemaking has been most forceful as of late. I hear her footsteps approaching now, dear Journal, and I must take my leave of you for the moment--_  
  
 _Dear Journal, Jane has just informed me that her cousin has given birth and that she wishes to visit for a few days and offer what assistance she can to the new mother.  She will depart first thing Monday and be gone for the week.  My feelings are torn.  I hate that she will be gone from me, even for such a short time and I worry for her safety--but at the same time, I am most eager to tell Tom.  I am already imagining the look on his expressive face when I give him the news.  He will be most pleased to learn that we will finally be lovers in full.  He will finally be mine._

                                                                                                                                            **_E **d** ward Fairfax Rochester, June 1841_**

 

           

_My Dearest Edward,_

_My heart cannot stop racing since you told me that we would have the mansion to ourselves next week.  I am elated that we will finally,_ truly _be together in every way.  I am also terrified, Edward my love.  What if I disappoint you?  I already know that you will not disappoint me, as I have reveled in every erotic act introduced to me by you.  There is not a kiss or caress between us that has not left me enraptured.  When daydreaming about the pleasure that we have given each other, I sigh and simper like a lovelorn maiden._  
 _You will be my first lover, Edward._ _I have no past now.  All of other lovers no longer exist--there is only you.  The thrilling things that you have done to prepare me for taking you into my body have been nearly overwhelming in pleasure.  I fear that I might die from the ecstasy of our joining.  But if I do die from it, Edward, I could not think of a better way to meet my end than in your arms.  I cannot wait for you to make me yours, but wait I must.  Know that your wee mouse, your curious little cat, your Tom, is counting every second until we are one._

  
                                                        _Yours,_  
 _Thomas_

 

_Thomas,_   
  


_Know that I, too, count every second until we are at last one, until you belong to me.  I cannot stop thinking of marking you as mine, my wee mouse._   
  
_EFR_

 

 

 

  **In the study...**

 

            Charles and Erik have been carefully flipping through Edward’s journal and reading the letters while Charles waits for the repairman to come and replace the attic window (and have a long-overdue look at the kitchen).  Erik is as riveted by the tale of these two lovers as Charles has been.

            “Charles, this is incredible! Do you think that we can help them?”  
            “Yeah, yeah it _is_ incredible.  But a the moment, I’m more interested in helping us than them.  I only hope you don’t start having all those fucked up dreams now, too.”  
            “Charles! Your language!”  
             Charles waves his hand around, irritably, “I know, I know.  I’m sorry.  For some reason, I seem to be unable to keep my internal dialogue… _internal_ , today.”  
             Erik looks at him curiously, “You always sound like that in your head?”  
            “What you’ve heard so far is _nothing_.  If you could hear what I _really_ think when I‘m speaking, you‘d be shocked.  But it‘s how I always manage to be so pleasant to everyone.”  
            “I had no idea.”  Erik is starting to look a little intrigued.  
            “Oh, you have NO fucking idea,” Charles smirks.  “You remember last week when that lady from the school board came ‘round?”  
            Erik scowls, “Yes!  She had her hands all over you!”  
            “It’s gratifying that you noticed, Erik.  But my _point_ is that, even though she was an atrocious woman, I smiled and said all of the right things, even kissed her hand when she left and wished her a pleasant day.  I was able to do that because _in my head_ , I was holding an entirely different conversation with her.”  Charles grins impishly and wiggles his fingers at Erik’s head, “Want to know what I was _really_ saying to her?”  
            Erik looks a bit wary, but nods his consent.  And when Charles touches Erik’s temple (merely a polite affection, Erik knows by now), his mouth drops open in astonishment (and not a little awe) just at the sheer volume of profanity and vitriol--not even taking into account the creativity.  “Well,” he coughs, laughing.  “That certainly does explain a lot, Charles.”  
            “Want to hear what I really think about _you_?”  Charles's grin shifts from impish to openly seductive.  
            Erik nearly chokes. “Not if we want to get anything else done… _ever_.”  
            Charles looks regretful, but acquiesces. “I suppose you’re right.”  
            “Once we get this figured out, Charles…” Erik looks at him intently.  
            “Yeah?”  
            “Once we get this figured out, I’m taking you up on that offer.”  
            “I’ll hold you to that, Erik.  But we do need to finish reading that journal and these letters.  We‘ve got to stop Tom before he hurts someone.”  
            “What do you think he wants, Charles?”  
            “I don’t know, Erik.  So far, what I _do_ know is that the Xavier mansion used to be called Thornfield Hall and belonged to this Edward Rochester fellow and that this Tom LeFroy was in his employee.  I know from both the journals and my dreams that they had a rather torrid love affair.  From the daguerreotype, I know that at least as of 1844, if not still lovers they were at the very least, friends.   After that, I don't yet know what happened.  But from the events of this morning, I think it‘s safe to say that Tom thinks you’re Edward and that he is jealous.”  
            “I don’t know, Charles.  From what I’ve read, that Edward fellow seems to be a bit on the possessive side himself.  Maybe _he’s_ the one doing this--after all, you seem to be the focus of attention.  Maybe he thinks that you’re Tom and was jealous of _me_.  And why now, anyway?  You and I haven’t really been around each other that much the past few days--in fact, we‘ve been at odds.  Besides, you did say that Jean told you that the ‘Other Man’ that looked like you was _‘making your dreams good’_.  That doesn‘t sound like someone trying to cause harm.”

            _‘YES!! Finally!’ Tom is doing a fist pump--though it probably wasn’t called that in his time._

  
            “No, I don’t think that’s right, Erik.  After all, aside from some strange dreams and a few cold spots, nothing actually bad happened...until we kissed.  And when I kissed you _again_.  Then there was that horrible, enraged scream that I heard…”  
            “I suppose you have a point.”  
            “Well, let‘s get back to reading, then.”

  
            _‘Nooo!!’ Tom’s elation turns to frustration and disappointment at Charles‘s words.  Why is it the completely insensitive one that seems to be catching on instead of the so-called genius?!  For a brief, shining moment he thought they had it figured out.  But nooo, of course not--that would be too easy.  Idiots._

  
            “Er, Charles…?”  
            “Yeah?”  
            “You, uh, you notice anything strange?”  
            Charles looks over at Erik, confused.  “What do you mean?”  
            Erik holds out his arm and every hair is standing on end, then he points to the window (where a pissed off Tom stands, unseen).

  
            Frost is creeping up the glass.

  
            “He’s here,” Charles whispers hoarsely, his breath frosting out.  He and Erik are wide-eyed and now clinging to each other like children.  “Oh my God, Erik!  He’s here!  What do we do!?”  
            “Run…?”  
            “Good idea,” Charles whispers.  “I’ll grab the journal, you grab the letters, and then we’ll run for it.”  
            “Ok.  On a count of three… _ein, zwie, drei_ …”  
            _**“RUN!!!”**_

They race out of the room in a panic, freezing in place in the corridor when the heavy oak door slams itself shut behind them.  Then they jump in terror (though they both deny screaming) when they hear a sound from inside the room--a dull thud against the door...like someone throwing a book against it in frustration.  

             


	12. You've Got It All Wrong!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very short little chapter, in which Raven's sighting of Tom leads her to a conclusion about Erik and Charles that gets it all wrong, but oh-so-right. Charles and Erik are horrified--and Tom is in stitches. That is, until he and Edward briefly cross paths (sort of).

          Erik and Charles are still standing in the hallway, terrified and trying to process what just happened, when Raven suddenly pops around the corner.  Though they would both staunchly deny screaming, Raven is looking at them like they‘re crazy.  

          “What the hell is wrong with you two!? You look like you‘ve seen a ghost!”  Busy shivering and rubbing her hands up and down her arms, she misses the look on their faces.  “Oh, my God, it’s freezing in here!  Charles you need to have someone check the boiler.”  
          Trying to sound composed he replies, “Erik already checked.  There’s nothing wrong with it.  Must just be extra cold today or something.”  
          Raven has that ‘you’re-so-stupid’ look on her face, “It’s been like this for _days_ , Charles.  I _tried_ to ask you about it yesterday, but you just walked off like you didn’t even hear me.”  
          Charles feels a chill run down his spine.  “Raven, all we talked about yesterday was that I wasn’t mad at you.”  
          “I saw you leaving your study yesterday afternoon and called for you, but you just ignored me and walked away!  I came after you, but by the time I got to the end of the corridor, you were already gone.”  Her bottom lip wobbles, “I guess you were lying about not being mad at me anymore.”  
          Trying to hide his fear, he pulls her into a (loose) hug, “Oh no, of course not, love!  I’m not mad at you, I promise.  But, Raven, I wasn’t anywhere near my study yesterday afternoon.  After I spoke with you yesterday morning, I spent the entire day in the attic going through some old papers--in fact, I fell asleep up there and stayed the night.”  
          “But I saw you!”  
          “Raven, I swear to you that I was in the attic all day yesterday and didn’t leave until this morning, after everyone had already left the mansion.”  
          She’s starting to get mad.  “Charles, I know what I saw!”  
          Charles and Erik exchange a long look.  “Should we tell her?”

          Raven startles them both when she suddenly points at them, crowing triumphantly, “Ha! I knew it!  I _knew_ it!  You two are having SEX!  Yesterday I caught you sneaking off to meet Erik for SEX!   _That‘s_ why you were hiding from me!”  
          While they gape at her in shock, still-pointing she shifts her focus to a speechless Erik, “He broke you didn’t he!?  When he went out the other night all hottied-up and came home smelling like cheap perfume…?  You couldn’t take it anymore, could you?!   _Could you?!!?_   And now you‘re _DOING IT_!  YESSSS!!!”  Raven does a happy dance.  “Oh my _God_! That is so HO…er…” she trails off, face red (purple, rather).  After a brief awkward pause, her eyes light up and she suddenly shrieks, _**“ANGEL!!!! ANGEL!!!!**   _Oh my _GOD_!  You have got to hear this!!” and takes off running.  
          Panicked, Erik and Charles give chase, yelling, “Raven! _NO!_ _Wait!!_ You‘ve got it all wrong!”

         

          Tom _is leaning against the doorway, shaking with laughter--his anger and frustration all but forgotten.  That had to be one of the funniest things that he has ever seen in his life…_ or _his afterlife, for that matter.  Oh, the look on their faces as Blue Girl unleashed on them with her wild accusations!  Tom chuckles and wipes the tears of laughter from his eyes.  Serves them right, too.  Now they know how it feels when someone’s got it‘s right, but still oh-so-wrong.  To give her credit though, she’s certainly smarter than those two--from what he has witnessed so far, she wasn’t too far off the mark.  ‘_ If those two dunderheads hadn’t been interrupted up in the attic, they’d probably be shagging right now,’ _he snorts to himself.  Hopefully, they_ will _get the chance to tell her everything.  Those poor bastards need all they help they can get--and she’s far more likely to figure it all out than them._  
 _Now, as fascinating as this all is, it’s time to rest for a bit.  He’s been getting stronger every day, but he’s afraid that he overdid it morning--and it wouldn’t do to let himself get too weak.  But it had been such a long time since he’s been able to properly touch things, though--much less move them--and he got a little carried away.  To Tom’s detriment, he has ever been a slave to temptation, and the temptation to_ touch _, to_ feel _after so very long was simply irresistible.  He is very tired now, and it takes a remarkable amount of energy to keep himself hidden.  And at this very moment, he must_ **not** _be seen--no matter how much he may wish to reveal himself.  It’s not yet time.  He_ must _rest and regain his strength.  He slowly, oh-so-carefully lets himself fade--so very carefully that he dares not even wipe away the silvery tears tracing down his face._

         

          Edward _stands in the same corridor, confused.  He had appeared there just as Tom and the other one (_ Erik _, he thinks, scowling), had disappeared from sight, chasing after the blue girl.  But Edward is confused because he can still feel Tom so very near.  In fact, in all of these lonely years of waiting, he has never felt Tom’s presence so strongly as he does now.  He would swear that if he reached out his hand, he would find his Tom.  But then the sense of Tom’s presence slowly begins to dissipate until nothing remains but the ache in Edward‘s chest where his heart would be had he still possessed one._

 

 


	13. A Second Opinion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles and Erik enlist Raven's help in trying to figure out what's going on around the mansion. Charles wants to claw his own eyes out.

 

     “You’re _shitting_ me!”  
  
     Erik and Charles have finally managed to catch up to Raven and stop her.  They sit her down and tell her all about the journal and pictures…and all of the strange goings-on (leaving out _her_ part in the dreams, which Charles hasn‘t yet told Erik, either).  
     “RAVEN!!  No, I assure you that I am not.  And _please_ watch your language.”  
     Erik marvels at how prissy Charles sounds right now--especially after ‘hearing’ first-hand how fluent he is in the use of profanity.   _‘That’s a bit rich of you, don’t you think?’_   
     Charles jumps a little when Erik thinks at him, then glares.   _‘This is_ different _. And_ I _usually don’t do it_ out loud _._   
     Erik just smirks.  Charles gets all cat-offended, sniffing and turning his back.   _‘Bastard.’_  
 _‘Why don’t you swish your tail and clean your ears and whiskers while you’re at it?’_   
     Charles blatantly ignores him.   
     Raven looks at them narrow-eyed.  “Are you two talking about sex to each other?”

    _ **“NO!!”**_  
     Charles sighs, “Raven, what we told you is the truth.  I found that journal up in the attic the other day, along with that photo of the two men who look like Erik and me.  Strange things have been happening ever since.  Cold spots, strange dreams, and you and Erik and the little mutant girl all seeing someone who looks like me--but isn‘t.  Then there was the window exploding in the attic when Erik and I kis--” _Oops._  
     “Oh my God!”  Raven breathes out.  “Oh my God!  You _are_!  You really _are_ having sex!  That‘s so hot… _er_ …”  
     “No, we’re not!”  Charles wants to die of embarrassment.  Erik look like he does, too.  “Please, for God’s sake, _focus_ Raven!  Remember what’s important:  vengeful ghost…?  Remember?  Tried to kill me and Erik in the attic, then again in the study…?  Prancing about the mansion looking to harm who knows who…?  Remember _any_ of that?”  
     Given the look currently on Raven’s face, Erik senses a very probable fist-fight between the two commencing.  “Raven, why don’t we all go back to the study where we can look over everything together.  I had a hard time believing at first, too.  But once you see it all for yourself, you’ll believe.”  
     Charles, for once, says the right thing, “Raven, Raven, I’m sorry for yelling at you.  I know I’ve been an arse lately, but I’ve just been so worried about all this and unable to tell anyone why.”  He can sense her softening and gives her the kitten eyes, for good measure, “Please, Raven, help us.  We need your insight.  We can’t do this alone.”  
     “Oh Charles!  Of course I’ll help!”  
     “Great!  Let’s all go back to the study, like Erik suggested.”   
     Erik breathes a sigh of relief, even as he has to restrain himself from rolling his eyes.  Charles is _so_ obvious.  Erik can‘t believe Raven _still_ falls for that.  He can _feel_ the smug sense of victory emanating from Charles.  Though tempted to rat him out, Erik doesn’t want to hurt Raven’s feelings by letting her know that she’s been played.  He’s torn between amusement and outrage at her next statement:  
     “You know, Charles--you didn’t have do the kitten eye thing.”  Raven glances at him sidelong, “Oh yeah, I‘ve been onto that for _years_.  I would have helped anyway.  The fact that someone with as little imagination as Erik would believe this, was enough to make me curious.”

  
An hour later…

  
     “Oh, _wow_! These dudes were kinky little freaks!”  
     “Raven! For God‘s sake!”  
     “Don’t even start, Charles.  These cats had some serious issues!  I mean, some of the stuff they were _into_ …! Whew!”  Raven fans herself.  
     “Did you _only_ read the parts about sex?” Erik asks.  At Raven’s arch look, he sighs, “Never mind.  The question answers itself.”  
     Charles, for his part, is looking a little green over Raven’s avid interest in all of the explicit sex in the journal and letters.  He would _die_ if Raven (or Erik, for that matter) found out about the three-way dreams.  “Did you read anything _helpful_?” he asks, hoping against hope.  
     Raven grins wolfishly, “Oh, yeah!”  
     “Oh God, please kill me!” he moans miserably.  
     “I’m only about half-way through, though.  I can’t wait to see if they ever got down with Jane together. It‘s so freaky that they look just _like_ you guys!”  She grins again, flowing into her blonde-form, “Wouldn’t it be _really_ weird if that Jane chick looked like me!?”   
     Charles is absolutely horrified ( _Please don’t get a boner, please don‘t get a boner…_ ).  Erik has his face buried in his hands, and his shoulders are shaking, but Charles can’t tell if he’s laughing or crying.  Not for the first time, Charles wonders if Raven doesn’t have a secondary mutation that allows her to torture people (especially him) by somehow sensing the things that would embarrass them (him) the most.  
     Providing further evidence to this hypothesis, Raven says excitedly, “Hey!  Is all this kinky shit the reason you two decided to start _‘doing it_ ’!?”  
     “Jesus, Raven!” (-- _“Mein Gott! Was ist los mit dir?”_ \-- Erik is groaning in the background.)  
     “Well?!” she demands.  
     “We’re not _‘doing it’!_ ” Charles shouts, silently adding, _‘Yet.’_ so that it’s not a lie.  
     Looking mulish, Raven yells, “You _said_ that you kissed!  I heard you say it!”  
     Haunted or not, Charles is seriously thinking about retreating back to the attic to live out the rest of his life in complete solitude.   
     “ _Kissing_ is not the same thing as _‘doing it_ ’!”  he hisses at her.  
     “That’s not what you told me when I was thirteen!” she fires back.  “You told me that kissing boys is how you got pregnant.”  
     Erik looks at him incredulously, “Did you really tell her that?”  
     Red-faced, Charles just sort of shrugs.  Nothing he can really he can say in his defense about that.   
     “Was ist lost mit dir?” Erik repeats, this time at Charles.  
     “Oh, it’s ok, Erik,” Raven says, saccharine-sweet.  “I figured out that he must be lying when he never turned up pregnant.”  
     Looking sheepish, Charles shrugs again.  Not really a lot he can say in his defense about that, either.  Though he’s pleased to note that this time, Erik looks more intrigued than incredulous.  
     “Well, Raven.  Now that you’ve thouroughly embarrassed me in front of Erik, can we please get back to the matter at hand?” Charles asks.  
    _“I’m trying to help you get laid!”_ she mouths at him, before primly saying, “Of course.”   
     The horror he feels at her declaration is unparalleled.  That is, until Raven flips open the journal and announces, “Ooh, bondage! Kinky!” and begins reading aloud.

     The entry Raven is reading (with all of the evil, theatrical relish she can muster) is eerily similar to the dream that Charles had that first night after he found the journal, in which Tom’s hands had been tied above his head while Edward fucked him (‘Oh, _yes_ \--the _good_ dream,’ his hind-brain coos to him, ‘We liked that one, didn‘t we?’).   
     Raven is seemingly having the time of her life, reading the explicit details of the journal entry, while Charles is sitting curled into ball, arms wrapped tightly around his legs, chin resting on his knees--only his eyes and the top of his head visible.  He is currently torn between the nearly overwhelming urge to wrestle Erik to the floor and rip his clothes off or the nearly overwhelming urge to just curl further and further in on himself until he simply disappears.  He’s definitely praying that he doesn’t have to stand up anytime soon.  He‘d made the mistake of removing his oversized cardigan earlier, and (not to brag or anything) without it there’d be no way he could possibly hide his erection.  His only consolation is that Erik looks as awkward and miserable as Charles feels.  Raven, on the other hand, has _no_ shame.  Twins groans of misery erupt from both Charles and Erik as Raven pauses to giggle, “Oohhh, yeah! Now, they’re _‘doing it’_ standing up!  Kinky!”, and starts reading again.

     Finally, blessedly, Raven finishes reading.  Much to both Charles and Erik’s shock, she actually has something useful to say--once they translate it to something resembling English.  
     “So, this Edward guy…are you sure it’s not _him_ doing this stuff?  He seems like the insanely possessive type to me, much more than this Tom cat.  I mean, Tom is all like, _‘Ooh, Ooh, You’re so hot, Edward! I love you! I wanna be yours! Let’s have sex! Make me yours!’_ , right?” She waits for confirmation. “Well, right?”  
     Charles and Edward, sort of look at each other and shrug, then nod obediently.  
     “Ok, and this Edward dude is all broody and angsty. He’s all like, _‘MINE! MINE! He’s mine! She’s mine! I want them BOTH! Raaawwrrrrr!!! MINE!’_ , right?”  
     “Er…ok…?”  
     “So I don’t think Tom is doing this stuff.  I think it’s Edward.”  
     Erik looks smug, “That’s what I was thinking, too.  But Charles didn’t agree.”  
     “I’m still not completely convinced, but Raven does make some good points,” Charles says, adding a silent, _‘Sort of.’_   Then says, “It’s getting late, though.  Why don’t we take a break and we’ll work on this some more tomorrow. With Raven’s help, I think we’ve made some good headway today.”

     They all agree to meet in the morning after breakfast and retire to their rooms.

 

    Charles dreams again.

 

 

  


  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  



	14. Dream a Little Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles dreams a long, rambling complicated dream, but this time he doesn't try to fight it.

That night, Charles dreams...

 

     Tom and Edward are enjoying a leisurely walk through the wood surrounding Thornfield, taking advantage of the beautiful, crisp fall day, knowing that all too soon winter will arrive and such walks will no longer be possible.  The wood is, by unspoken agreement, their sanctuary.  Away from the prying eyes of servants and the ever-judging eyes of guests who dare to intrude upon the solitude of Thornfield, the wood is one of the very few places where they can dare to let down their guard even a little.  The wood is a place where their feelings, if not openly acknowledged, are perhaps not buried quite so deep.  A place where their linked arms or clasped hands can be excused to both themselves and others by Edward’s still sometimes-impaired vision. 

     Their walks had begun because Jane had grown exasperated with their constant bickering and sniping.  Weary of listening to their heated arguments, she had ordered them out of the house so that she could have some peace and quiet ( _“If you pair insist upon acting like children, then go outside to play and let me have some blessed silence! I already have a child--I don‘t need to mother two grown men, as well!”_ ).  Both of them feared Jane’s wrath more than they claimed to themselves to dislike each other, so they had done as she’d ordered.  And now their walks have become a daily occurrence, both of them looking forward to the walks though neither of them would dare admit such a thing.  
     In the peaceful solitude of the wood, they discuss everything from science to religion to politics to business, their arguments, more often than not, growing quite loud and heated--an unacknowledged outlet for safely diffusing other unspoken passions.  Today though, the bright sunshine and the rich smell of the autumn leaves are so lovely that they cannot find a reason to be disagreeable, and are satisfied with simply enjoying each other’s company for once, neither of them having the heart to bicker and ruin the day.  They have just been wandering about, idly talking about mundane everyday things, everything and nothing at all--walking ever closer, allowing their shoulders and hands to brush a little more frequently than actually necessary.  
     They eventually make their way to the small abandoned cottage they’d found during one of their previous walks.  As they approach, they are startled to see smoke rising from the chimney.  Something shifts, triggering something in Tom‘s memory (and _scratches_ at subconscious of the silently observing Charles), but it’s forgotten when Edward smiles broadly and says, “Looks like someone beat us here, Tom!”  
     They enter the cottage to see Jane in front of the fire, bent over a kettle, stirring the contents ( _‘Why is she here? This doesn’t seem right…’ floats across Charles mind, but somehow it doesn’t feel like his thought_ ).  But then, Jane looks up and sees them, she smiling but looking a bit dismayed.  “Oh! You’re early! I was so hoping to have supper ready before you got here.”  
     Edward walks over and pulls her into a hug, dropping a light kiss on her hair, “It’s alright, darling. There’s nothing to worry yourself over.”  
     Tom joins them, parroting Edward’s actions, adding, “That’s alright, Jane.  It’s just that much more time we get to spend with you, love.”  
     She laughs lightly and says, “Well, when you put it that way I suppose it’s not so bad, then.”  
     Charles feels that strange _scratching_ in his brain again when Tom pulls Jane into his arms and says, “Besides, supper can wait. I don’t believe that I can.”  He then kisses her and her arms wind around his neck.  They kiss tenderly for several moments, each kiss growing more and more heated, until they are both flushed and panting softly.  His erection is pressed between them and he moans as Jane’s hips move against him.  He kisses her again, sliding his hands down to cup and gently squeeze her breasts through her dress.  He knows how much she loves that and he smiles at her moan of surrender.  When her head tips back, he bends down to kiss along the length of her neck.  He reaches around to untie her apron, but Edward has already beat him to it--tossing the material to the floor as he begins kissing the other side of Jane’s neck and begins unfastening the seemingly unending row of buttons to her dress.  
     Edward and Tom pause in kissing Jane to kiss each other, both grinning wickedly when Jane moans at the sight of their passionate kiss.  Then both of them turn back to Jane, taking turns kissing her.  Tom pulls the pins out of her hair and watches the bright red locks tumble down her back.  Wait.   _Red?!_  
     Charles’s subconscious flinches. _No! Not again!_

     Edward is finally able to slide her dress down to her hips, exposing her breasts.  Tom runs his hands through her long red hair, letting the heavy fall of it spill through his fingers.  The color looks so beautiful, so lovely against the blue of her skin.  Laid out against the stark white sheets, she will look exquisite.  “Raven,” he sighs out, kissing her again.  “So beautiful.”  He captures her mouth in another deep, sweet kiss.   _How he loves her!_  
     Edward reaches around and cups Raven’s breasts, knowing that Tom loves seeing his long, elegant hands.  Edward holds them for Tom like a pagan offering, and he kisses her breasts worshipfully, lavishing them with attention (observer-Charles is dreading what‘s coming next).  She moans so prettily for him and cries out his name. _“Charles!”_  
  
      _I fucking_ knew _it!_   Charles briefly struggles to wake from the dream, but knows now that fighting will only make it worse.  Maybe if he just goes with it this time, the dream won’t be so bad.  Or maybe he’s just lying to himself so that he won’t feel so guilty that his dream-self is practically tearing off his trousers.  His subconscious does note that Edward/Erik is never fucking Jane/Raven in these dreams (so far)--only Tom/Charles.  But he ignores his subconscious for the moment, because he is too busy shoving his trousers down, while Erik is pushing Raven’s dress over her hips to pool at their feet.  They both pause and just stare at her for a moment--she truly _is_ exquisite.  
     “Turn around, darling.  Let us see all of you,” Erik whispers in her ear.  
     Or _is_ it Erik?  One second, the man standing behind Raven looks like Erik, then a tilt of his head will change the way the light falls across his face--and suddenly Charles is looking at Edward.  But just as quickly, the light will change again, and he is once more looking at Erik.  He is becoming confused, unable to decipher if what he is seeing is merely a trick of light and shadow, fueled by his imagination…or something else.  But Raven has turned around as she’d been commanded--and Charles is now distracted by the sight of her arse.  He can ‘t help but touch her, running his hands over her body, tracing her curves.  He can‘t help but admire the contrast of his pale skin against the deep blue of hers and feeling her rough-looking, but supple scales against his own smooth skin.  
     “So beautiful,” he tells her, pulling her back against him.  “I need you so very much.”  
     “Take her,” Erik…no _Edward_ , says to him.  “I want to watch you make love to her.  I need to see it.”  
     That strange _scratching_ feeling is back in Charles’s subconscious, like there is something important about what Edward is saying…something he should be remembering, but it is lost when Raven turns in his arms and kisses him.  He wraps his arms around her, marveling at how soft she feels.  When he opens his eyes, the face he is looking at is peaches-and-cream, not blue.  He is looking at Jane, not Raven.  But he is not Tom--he is still Charles.  Then the image flickers and he is holding Raven again.  
     The _aware_ part of Charles knows that he is missing something important, but he is a twenty-something man holding a beautiful naked woman--and biology trumps logic.  Still kissing her, he walks them over to the bed and gently eases her down onto the mattress.  Her long, bright-red hair fans out over the pillow, her skin looks an even richer blue against the stark white sheets, and he can‘t find the words to describe those golden eyes.  She looks just as stunning as he’d anticipated.  Both of them look to Edward for direction.  Edward wanted to see this, and they love him and want to please him just as much as they want to please each other.  
     Edward lays on the bed next to them and just watches intently as they begin making love, speaking soft love-words to each other.  Edward says nothing, only watches.  Again, Charles feels that _scritching, scratching_ in his brain.  Something important is happening, something he needs to know--but then Raven is tightening around him and calling out his name.  Whatever it was he needed to know about this is burned away when his own mind goes white-hot.  
  
     Charles wakes in the middle of the night, miserably cold and feeling like shit.  He is ashamed because of what he did with Raven in his dream (he grimaces, feeling a bit sick at sticky mess in his pajamas).  On the other hand, he was sort of right:  the dream wasn’t just a dream.  

     Somebody (Edward or Tom, he doesn’t know) is trying to tell him something--he just has to figure out what.  He knows that the _scratching_ in his brain (he honestly can’t think of a better word for the feeling) occurred during moments that were somehow important.  How, he doesn’t yet know--he kept getting distracted.  He feels his face getting red when he thinks about _why_ he kept getting distracted--he’d really rather not think about that, _ever_.  He does have to admit that the dream wasn’t as bad when he didn’t fight it, or at least didn’t seem as traumatic.  
     He gets out of bed to clean up and change pajamas and worries about what to do.  The really awful part is that he’s going to _have_ to tell Erik and Raven about the dreams.  He needs their help too badly.  He’s not so much worried about telling Erik anymore, but _Raven_ \--telling _her_ is another thing altogether. Their relationship is screwed up enough as it is without adding this.  Shivering in the cold, he climbs back into bed muttering, “Please, all I want is a little sleep and a pleasant, uncomplicated dream for once.”  
  
    _‘I’ll see what I can do,’_ comes the unheard reply.

     And for the rest of the night, Charles sleeps peacefully--dreaming about fluffy, pleasant, inconsequential things that make him smile in his sleep (even if an occasional icy touch, like cold fingers carding through his hair, does make him shiver and breathe out white).

  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 


	15. Mirror, Mirror

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Charles is ruminating over how to broach the subject of "The Dreams" (yeah, *those* dreams) with Erik and Raven, he catches his first glimpse of Tom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though Charles does get bit of a scare, this is a bit more lighthearted. I just can't shake the Christmas spirit and get serious yet.

     The next morning Charles wakes feeling more rested, but is still dreading the thought of telling Erik and Raven ( _especially_ Raven) about “The Dreams”.  He had initially been worried that Raven would be horrified, but after that debacle last night, he’s now kind of worried that she’s going to have the opposite reaction. 

      _“Ooohhh! Three-ways!”_   he sarcastically squeals as he putters around getting ready for his day.   _“Kinky!”_   
     He really doesn’t want to talk about this stuff at all, much less in front of anyone.  “Well, there’s nothing to be done about it now.  I’ve got to tell them.”  Then he looks down and sighs. _God!_   Just _thinking_ about the dreams has given Charles yet another problem to take care of--and also reinforces one of the main reasons _why_ he is so reluctant to talk about the dreams.  Stepping into the shower, he looks down at himself again, sighs another deep put-upon sigh, then scrubs his hands over his face, groaning, “Jesus _Christ_!  What in the _hell_ did I do to deserve this?”   
     Out of the corner of his eye, Charles catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and checks out his own arse.   _Hmmm…not bad.  Not bad at all--if I do say so myself._  He blows a kiss at his foggy reflection and mock-squeals, _“Masturbation! Ooohhh, kinky!”_   then makes good on that statement, hoping that his reflection enjoys the show.   
     Fortunately, or _unfortunately_ (depending on how you look at it), he’s too into his little show to notice his ‘reflection’s’ look of horrified surprise.  
  
    _“I’m in Hell.  I’m in Hell.  All this time I‘ve been in Hell and didn‘t know it until now…,” Tom mutters, reappearing in the study.  Looking (and feeling) thoroughly traumatized by Charles’s little ‘show’, he shudders, adding, “I believe if I still had eyes, I’d be clawing them out right now.”_  
 _He’d thought himself so very clever, pretending to be Charles’s reflection in the fogged over mirror.  After all, he’d had to act fast--he hadn’t been expecting Charles to see him (he never had_ before _).  He figured that his hasty plan had a better than average chance of working, because for someone who is supposed to be a genius, Charles was rather, well…_ clueless _, at times.  For heaven’s sake, the poor fellow is only_ just now, _after all the years, catching on to the fact that his mansion is haunted!  And he has had no idea whatsoever that Erik and the blue girl, Raven, were_ both _in love with him (though thankfully, he seems to be catching on to Erik).  Or, that the rest of the mansion’s inhabitants--both living_ and _dead--were in various stages of love/lust with him, excepting Tom, himself--and even_ he _(not that he’s biased or anything) can hardly deny that Charles is_ very _attractive.  Remembering the way that Charles was admiring “himself” in the mirror, Tom makes a face and snorts, ‘And apparently_ he _thinks so, too, if that little demonstration was anything to go by.’  He shudders again, “He wasn’t even that bad during puberty! Oh God, my eyes!”_

     Charles finally bounces out of the shower, looking flushed and a bit prune-y, but feeling much more relaxed.  He wipes off the mirror, then frowns slightly thinking that something seems _off_ , but unable to quite put his finger on what.  He suddenly freezes in place as it dawns on him what it is:  the mirror.  
     When he’d gotten in the shower, the mirror was already fogged over.  He couldn’t possibly have seen his own reflection.   _Holy shit!  Tom.  It had been Tom in the mirror!_   Charles’s knees go weak and he sinks to the floor in shock.

     That is where Erik finds him an hour later, still sitting on the bathroom floor, eyes wide and staring blankly ahead. “Charles! Charles, what’s wrong!?”  
     Charles makes a terrified, “Eeep!”  when Erik grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him.  
     “Charles, what’s wrong!?  Tell me.”  
     Charles finally looks at Erik, eyes still enormous, “He was here, Erik! Right here! I saw him with my own eyes!”  
     “Who Charles?”  
     “Tom.  I saw Tom.  I thought it was _my_ reflection, but it wasn’t--it was _him_!”  
     “Are you sure, Charles?”  
     “I thought it was _my_ reflection--he even mimicked my moves, Erik.  But then I realized that the mirror was fogged up and it couldn’t have been me!”  
     Erik is looking at him a little strangely, “ _Mimicked your moves_?  You mean, like _dance moves_?”  
     “He pretended to be me, Dumbass!  Like a doppelganger…?”  
     “Oh.”  
     Charles looks a little sick, “Oh, _God_!  I was checking out a dead man’s arse!”  
     Erik simply stares at him for a long moment, then makes a strangled noise and falls to the floor clutching his stomach and roaring laughter.  “Y--You w-w-were ch-check-ing out yo-your own arse?!?”  he manages to gasp out, tears of laughter running down his face.   
     Charles is furious, “It’s not funny, damn you! It wasn‘t _my_ arse!”  
     Erik completely loses it at this point and becomes helpless with laughter, unable to even draw enough breath to actually laugh out loud--he’s just sort of laying there on the floor _wheezing_ , more than anything else.  Charles is just making it worse, cursing him and quivering barely suppressed rage--reminding him of nothing so much as a small, infuriated dog.  Not thinking, he makes the mistake of projecting that image to Charles.  Charles does not take kindly to that and responds by taking a swing at Erik (he misses by a mile).

     “I’m gonna kick your fucking arse…you…you… _arse_!”  It seems that in his psychotic-tiny-dog-rage, Charles is also rapidly depleting his vast lexicon of profanity and just sticking to the basics.  
     Erik is still to weak from laughing to do much but lay there and wheeze out an few chuckles, while Charles rants at him. At least, until he notices that Charles’s towel has fallen off of his hips, leaving him completely nude.  Suddenly, laughter is the furthest thing from his mind, which he also, apparently projects to Charles…

 


	16. Edward Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward's got a secret...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very, very, super-short chapter. I'm feeling a bit under-the-weather, so this is more to prove to myself that I'm still alive than anything else. I may expand on it or I may just leave as-is...

16

  
     Edward is in the attic, pacing restlessly, deep in thought.   _What is he going to do?_  It’s obvious that Tom is being drawn into that _Erik_ character‘s web and is growing increasingly infatuated with him.   _This infatuation cannot be allowed to continue!_  Edward has been very tolerant of Tom’s recent behavior because of his youth, but there _is_ a limit to his tolerance.  Tom is _his_.  Has always _been_ his.  Will always _be_ his.  No one will come between them.  Never again.   
     In spite of his anger and frustration, though, Edward is also a bit excited and turns his thoughts to what he had discovered, the something _new_ that he could now do:  he’d shattered the attic window without ever touching it!  Nothing like that had ever happened to him before--not in all of his years of waiting.  He's been able to touch or move things (like the journal he'd unearthed for Tom to find).  But this!  He doesn't really know how it happened.   He just remembers being _so angry_  when Tom and Erik were about to kiss, and all he could think about was stopping them.  And suddenly, he could _feel_ the air _vibrating_ and saw the frost creeping up the glass, then the window had literally exploded out of it’s frame!  It had taken an incredible amount of energy, though--so much more energy than he was used to expending, even as strong as he was.  Afterward he’d had to seek rest for a while (and could use more, truth be told), because something as simple as traveling from the attic to Tom‘s study had exhausted him.  Even then, when he’d felt Tom's presence so strongly, he'd nearly used up the rest of his energy trying to remain in the hallway for as long as he could, desperately wanting to feel Tom again.  
      _Oh, Tom!_   He longs to have Tom in his arms, but he _must_ be patient.  He must hold fast to his goal.  The time is not yet right to reveal himself.  It must be enough, for now, to be able to watch over Tom while he works.  Or at night, to sit beside Tom's bed, looking his fill while his love sleeps--and if he sometimes strokes Tom’s soft hair or gently caresses Tom’s pale, perfect cheek, well…he can hardly be blamed, now can he?  After all, he’s waited so very long, so very paitiently, to be with Tom again.  Waited so long for them to be together again.  

     And this time, he's sure.   _It won’t be like the oth_ … _ **No!**_   _No!  Don’t want to think about that…_ mistake _._ No, _this_ time he’s sure. 

     Edward smiles as he lets himself fade away.   _This time he's sure._  

     Time to rest now and regain his energy.  


	17. Cock-blocking Sisters Are the Worst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Charles and Erik just can't catch a break. And of all the things that keep interrupting them, cock-blocking sisters are the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a Cherik little fun before things take a turn for the serious.

     Charles’s rant winds down, trailing off when he finally notices that Erik is no longer laughing at him, but is instead staring at him in a way that is making Charles feel very much like he is in a dream.  It certainly _feels_ like a dream when he watches his own hand reach out to stroke Erik’s cheek and trace a thumb over his mouth.  And like a dream, when Erik’s lips curve into a soft, welcoming smile.  Like a dream, when Erik’s hand reaches out to caress Charles’s bared hip.  But it definitely feels _real_ when they are suddenly kissing, wild and frantic--their current problems suddenly taking a backseat to their long-denied feelings.

     Vengeful cock-blocking ghosts, plummeting temperatures, mysterious journals, exploding kitchens, the school, strange and disturbing dreams:  none of it matters.  The only thing that matters is that they are finally, truly alone with each other.  The only thing that’s currently concerning Charles is that Erik is wearing far too many clothes and how he can immediately remedy this unfortunate situation.

     And it would seem that Erik is in agreement with Charles, as he is eagerly assisting with shoving his trousers down over his hips.  Charles is pretty sure that he drools on himself a little when Erik strips his T-shirt off ( _Good God! Are those abs even_ real _?!)_.  He’s _certain_ that he drools on himself when he sees Erik‘s dick (it‘s gratifying to see that Erik is looking a little impressed, himself).  With all of those pesky clothes out of the way, they are soon so caught up in each other that the other presence in the room doesn’t register to them.  At first.

     “ _OH MY GOD_!!!”

     Charles and Erik scream and clutch at each other.  Raven is standing in the doorway.

     “Oh my GOD!!!” Charles yells, horrified.  Erik says nothing, just does his best to sink into the floor.

     “Oh, my _GOD_!!” she’s pointing at them, eyes bugging out.  “You-- That-- Oh. MY. _GOD_!!”

     In a panic, Charles frantically yells, “It’s not what it looks like! I swear!”  He winces even as the words leave his mouth, knowing how stupid he sounds since it’s pretty obvious it’s _exactly_ what it looks like--he and Erik are still gripping each other’s cocks.  Even in her shock, Raven manages to look at him like he’s an idiot (even Erik is, too).

     Mortified, Charles drapes his discarded towel over them in a belated attempt at modesty and hides his face in Erik’s neck, just wanting to die (Erik is no doubt noticing, by now, that his erection hasn‘t gone away).  Raven is back to gaping and pointing, her gaze riveted south of the border (if Erik hasn‘t noticed, _she_ certainly has).  “Oh my God,” she breathes, sounding suspiciously enraptured.  “You were _doing it_!  You’re just like those kinky guys in that book!  That‘s so freakin‘ _HOT_!”

     Finally, looking like he wishes the earth would open up and swallow him, Erik speaks up, “Um, Raven…?  Do you mind…?”  he waves his free hand, indicating him and Charles.

     “No, not at all.”  Raven says with a grin that makes Erik equal parts envious and terrified.  “Please don’t let me interrupt.”

     “For God’s Sake, Raven! _Get out!_ ”  Charles moans wretchedly.

     “You’re no fun!  I bet those ghost guys would let me watch!” she pouts.

     Charles wants to disappear.  “ _Please,_ Raven _!_ I’m _begging_ you!  For the love of all that is holy, just give us a minute to, er…put ourselves right.  Wait in the bedroom.  We’ll be out in a moment.  _Please_!”

     “Alright! Alright! I‘ll wait in the bedroom…!” she says.  Then she waggles her eyebrows and grins, “While you ‘put yourselves right’…” and walks out of the bathroom, still grinning.

     “…And no peeking through the keyhole, Raven!”

 _"FINE!!”_ she snaps, slamming the door behind her.

    

     “Well…I can safely say that I have never been so mortified in my entire life,” Charles moans, curling up into a ball.

     Erik is curled up into his own ball of shame.  “Has she _always_ been like that? Or is this something recent?  I don’t really recall her being quite this bad before.”

     “Yes and no.  She’s always been a terrible horn-dog, but I didn’t realize that she was quite so sex-crazed.  It hurts my head to think about it.”  ‘ _Liar!’ Hind-brain yells at him._

     “I’m not quite sure I believe you, Charles.”

     _Oh, God! Here it comes…_ faux-casual _,_ Charles asks, “What do you mean, Erik?”

     “Well, I couldn’t help but notice that…um, you got _harder_ when she--”

     Charles interrupts. “You know when I said that I can safely say that I’ve never been so mortified in my life…?”

     “Yes…?”

     “ _Now_ , I can safely say that I have never been so mortified in my entire life.”

(--What’s taking so long!? Are you two ‘doing it’ again?!--)

     “Ok, _NOW_. NOW, I can say that.”

     “At least she’s adopted…” Erik offers.

     “I hate you.”

     “Now, Charles…”

     “No.  No, Erik.  Between cock-blocking ghosts, semi-incestuous cock-blocking sisters, and every other cock-blocking disaster and humiliation known to man, it’s just not gonna happen for us.  Let’s just get dressed and get on with the day.  We‘ve got a lot of material to cover.”  Charles jumps up and pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt.  “I’m destined to a life of anonymous, drunken one-night stands.  I may as well enjoy them while I‘m still young enough to enjoy them, before I drift into the life of a lonely, celibate old man.”

     “Charles, you’re being a little melodramatic.  So we got interrupted a couple of times!  It’s not the end of the world!  Are you giving up on us that easy?!”

     “ _Every_ time, Erik!  And by _ghosts_!  And my _sister_!  And did I mention _GHOSTS_!” Charles yells.  “Besides, I haven’t told you and Raven _everything._ Once I do, you’re not going to want to be with a freak like me, anyway.”

     “Charles!”

     “Get dressed, Erik.”

     “Charles!”

     “I said, ‘Get dressed!’”

     “You know…you’re very sexy when you’re being bossy.”

     “ _Now_ , Erik!”

From the bedroom: --Ooohhh! Kinky!--

     “RAVEN!” they both yell, then fall on each other laughing.  And kissing.

     "Ok, so maybe I'm not ready to give up quite yet," Charles announces.

 

     They finally walk out to meet Raven, and Charles gets serious:  “I need to talk to the both of you, about something.”  He takes a deep breath and scrubs his hands over his face, “There are some things that I haven’t told you about these dreams I‘ve been having.  For the sake of my sanity, I’d rather not--but the way things have been going, I’m afraid _not_ to tell you.”

     “What is it, Charles?”

     “Yeah, Charles! What’s wrong?”

     Charles’s stomach clenches at the look on Raven’s face--she looks so young and so worried about him.  She’s going to hate him after this.  His stomach clenches at the look on Erik’s face--he looks so earnest and worried.  He’s going to hate him after this.

     Charles rubs a hand over his face again.  He really, _really_ doesn’t want to do this, but he couldn’t live with himself if something happened to one of them--to _any_ of his friends--because he kept information from them out of cowardice.  And if he’s being truthful, the dreams really don’t bother him--they’re obviously some kind of message, and he seemingly doesn‘t have any say regarding the content.  It’s his _reaction_ to the dreams--more importantly, his _lingering_ reaction to the dreams, that’s bothering him…and, well, he doesn’t have to tell them about _that_ , now does he?

     Feeling marginally better, he takes another deep breath, blows it out, and begins:  “Ok…so these dreams I‘ve been having…”


	18. A Whole Lotta Nothing Going On...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A whole lot of nothing goes on. Charles's confession to Raven and Erik regarding the true nature of his dreams goes surprisingly well--well, for now, anyway ;D 
> 
> Mostly, Raven torments Charles (and by proxy, Erik) with her Raven-ness. Charles gets her back. And Angel has a brief ghostly encounter (though she doesn't know it...yet).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly setting things up for more of the Tom/Edward portion of the storyline--and just taking it easy and getting back into the swing of writing since work, vacation (yay, Scotland!), more work, and computer issues combined to get in the way of working on my WIPs.

 

     “…and that’s everything, I guess.”

 

     Charles hasn’t looked at either of them the entire time he’s been telling the, er…naked truth about the dreams--he‘s been too scared and ashamed.  But, at least now, he’s finally gotten it out of his system and is just waiting for the inevitable fallout.  When he doesn’t hear _anything,_ though, he finally looks up at them, his eyes clearly saying, ‘ _Please don’t hate me’,_ and is relieved by the understanding look in Erik’s eyes and more than a little disturbed by the strangely triumphant look in Raven’s eyes.  But his fears concerning her are somewhat alleviated when she jumps up and points him, declaring: “So _that’s_ why you’ve been avoiding me!  I _knew_ it!  I knew that something freaky was going on with you!”

     “Raven, I--”

     “Don’t you ‘ _Raven_ ’ me!” she shouts.  “All this time you were _lying_ to me, telling me that nothing was wrong--knowing that I was miserable, thinking that you were still mad at me!”

     “Rav--”

     “No!  I’m sick and tired of being treated like a child, Charles!”

     “Then stop acting like one!”  Charles snaps, finally at the end of his patience.

     Immediately regretting his words, he winces as Raven gapes at him, wounded.  Erik just looks like he wants to run for it.

     Charles pulls Raven into a hug, for the first time in days not feeling scared to touch her.  “I’m so sorry, Raven.  I didn’t mean to snap at you.”  He rubs her back, trying not to think about the snot she getting on him as she snuffles into his shoulder.  Besides, he’s so relieved to have his sister back that he’s near tears himself, his own nose is starting to run (so he’s got plenty of ammo to pay her back with, if necessary).  “I didn’t mean to treat you like a child, but how was I supposed to tell you the truth about those dreams?  I was _mortified_.  I thought you would hate me, think I was sick or something.  It’s only because I fear for your safety that I told you at all.”  He glances at Erik, too, adding, “Either of you.”

     “I could never hate you, Charles!  And that was too much for you to deal with alone,” Raven sniffles, hugging him tight.  “I wish you’d told us sooner.  You shouldn’t have had to feel like you couldn’t tell us.  I‘m glad you finally did and that you‘re letting us help.”

     “Me, too, Charles,” Erik says, joining them in a group hug.

     They both groan and laugh at Raven’s muffled, “Oooh! Kinky!”

 

     Hardly able to believe that they Raven and Erik don’t think he’s a freak, Charles feels much better than he has in days.  He’s ready to get back to tackling the mystery of who Edward and Tom were and why they are haunting his mansion.  He suggests that they all go back to the study and take another look at the journal and letters to see if they can find any more clues to what‘s going on and what it all means.  Raven, of course, wants to go to the attic and see if there is any more “kinky shit” to be found, but Charles is worried about being attacked again.  Eyebrow raised in a way that’s making Charles regret getting up that morning, Raven points out that they were only attacked when he and Erik were “doing it” and that unless they planned on “doing it” in front of her, another attack was unlikely to happen (their token protest that they were not “doing it” is cut short by Raven’s gimlet stare).  She also adds that she hasn’t yet been to the attic, and that a fresh set of eyes may spot something that they missed.  Not happy, but unable to deny that her argument actually makes sense, Charles and Erik reluctantly agree to head to the attic and give it a thorough search while there is still enough light.

 

 

_Hours later_ …(by Raven’s estimation, anyway)

 

　

     “Nothing!” Raven spats in disgust.  She pauses to look at Charles and Erik like it‘s all _their_ fault, before resuming pacing and ranting.  “ _Hours! Hours,_ I tell you _,_ of digging around up here!  And for what!?  _Nothing_!”

     Charles and Erik share a look of mild disbelief--they’ve been here less than an hour.  _Can you believe she’s actually trying to blame this on_ us _?_ Charles thinks at Erik.

     Finally, Erik just shrugs and gives him a look that says, _‘And this surprises you?’_

(--“…Ewww! I’ve got cobwebs in _my hair_!” Raven whines in the background.--)

     Charles concedes his point.  _Well,_   _I_ tried _to tell her that the place was cold and filthy.  I guess she was expecting one of the ghosts to just show up and_ hand _her new evidence._

(--…broke my fingernail!--)

_'Or that we would start 'doing it'...?"_

Charles wants to cry, _"Please don't remind me of that..."_

_'So what now?'_ Erik want to know.

_'Back downstairs?'_

_'Sounds good to me.'_

     “So…,” Charles interrupts Raven increasingly pitiful (and annoying) whining, “I vote that we head back down, clean off the grime, then troop back to the study where we can at least be moderately comfortable.  What do you say to that, Raven?

     “Well, it’s about time!”

     Charles will never be entirely sure how he manages to suppress the urge to throttle her--especially when Raven adds, “I don’t know why you even insisted on coming up here in the first place!” before flouncing out of the room.

     In a fit of pique that is petty, but oh-so-satisfying, Charles doesn’t tell her about the spider in her hair.  _Let her find out on her own,_ he smiles to himself as he follows her down.

 

_“AAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIII!!!!”_

 

     Erik jumps up in alarm.  _“Mein Gott!_ Raven!”

     He starts to run out of the room, then notices that, not only has Charles has not moved to help Raven, he is in fact lounging on the sofa looking very relaxed and insufferably smug.

     “ _Charles!_ Didn’t you hear Raven screaming?!  She’s in trouble!  Why aren’t you moving?!”

     Still looking insufferably smug, Charles smiles a disturbingly evil smile and says, breezily, “Oh, she’s alright.  You’ll see.”

     “Wha--”

     Still smiling evilly, Charles holds up a finger, interrupting him.  “Wait for it…wait for it…”

     “ _CHARLES!!!  YOU BASTARD!!!!_ ”

     Charles had been cackling merrily, but when he hears the enraged scream and the sound of feet thudding rapidly down the hall, Erik notes that the smugness leaves Charles’s face to be replace by panic.  It is the look of someone who been poking at a hornets’ nest and had just realized that it was still occupied--by one angry, angry hornet--if the string of vicious curses and threats is anything to go by.

     “ ** _You_**!”  Raven growls low, suddenly appearing in the doorway, and pointing at Charles.  “You _knew_ that…that _thing_ was in my hair, didn‘t you?!  _Didn‘t you_?!”

     Erik is pretty sure that Charles whimpers.  Not that Erik can blame him.  He’s actually a bit frightened himself, and he isn’t even the focus of her rage.  He’s not sure if it’s Raven’s mutation or just his imagination, but he would swear that she looks larger than normal.  She looks to Erik like a Valkyrie--beautiful, fierce, and other-worldly, with her blue skin and her golden eyes shimmering with Berserker-rage.

     Then she ruins the magnificent image completely, when her eyes suddenly fill with tears and she drops her hands, whining, “ _Whyyyyyyy_!?”

     Erik is torn between relief and disappointment.  A deeply-relieved Charles, on the other hand, quickly takes advantage of this turn in events.  He hugs Raven, apologizing and cooing and petting, and just being… _Charles_.  Erik looks on in fascination as Charles soon has Raven’s good mood restored and they are laughing hysterically over the whole spider incident.  As he’s giving Raven a final hug, Charles catches Erik's stare, and winks.  Erik shakes his head and smiles, thinking about how utterly manipulative and diabolical Charles can be--and how _hot_ it is...

      Then he momentarily loses the ability to think at all, when he sees Charles’s answering smile and hears a teasing, seductive voice in his head:  ‘ _Oh, my friend, you don’t know the_ half _of it, but I’ll be happy to show you.’_

     _‘And I’ll be happy to let you’,_ Erik finally manages to think back at him. 

     “Are you two having mind-sex?!” comes Raven’s muffled voice.  “Ooh, kinky!”

     Charles rolls his eyes, “Ok, then!  On that note, let’s all go to the study.  We’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for, and the sooner we solve the mystery of our ghosts-- _God, I can’t believe these words are even coming out of my mouth_ \--the sooner we can get our lives back to normal.”

     As he leads they walk through the house, Charles adds, “Oh, and Raven, love, I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention this to anyone else.”

     She looks surprised.  “You mean about the ghosts?”

     Charles fights the urge to face-palm.  “No, not the ghosts.  You can tell them about the ghosts--just not about the, er,” he blushes, “the, er, _dreams_ …and stuff.”   He does an impressively-complicated eyebrow wiggle to indicate Erik.

     Raven's eyes widen in understanding.  “You’re not worried about the dreams,“ she says, and gives him a knowing look, “You just mean that you don’t want me to tell everyone that you two are ‘doing it’, right?”

     This time Charles _does_ face-palm (so does Erik).  Again adding a silent, _"Yet."_   (for Erik's benefit), he says, “For God’s sake, Raven!  How many times do I have to tell you that we’re not ‘doing it’!” 

      “Until I start believing it.”

     Charles sighs, "You're going to cause me to have a stroke.  You know that, don't you?"

     "Don't be silly, Charles.  Now that you're 'doing it' all the time, you'll be too relaxed for your blood pressure to get that high," Raven argues, ignoring the fact that Charles actually does look about two seconds away from popping a vessel.  "But don't worry, you two.  Your secret is safe with me." 

     Seconds later they pass Angel, who gives them a lacivious grin and a thumbs up.  " _Hot!"_  

     "Yes," Charles dead-pans, as Erik tries to make himself invisible.  "You're a paragon of discretion, Raven."

     Raven looks a little sheepish.  "Well...I won't tell anyone _else_..."

     

     Preoccupied with their mission, none of them see Angel frown and shiver as she walks through a cold spot just behind them.  _Charles really needs to do something about the heat!_    She shivers again as an icy chill touches her wings.  Rubbing her arms, she heads back to her room to find a sweater, suddenly feeling uneasy, but unable to explain why.

    

_Incredible._ He'd seen the girl's wings before, of course, but never this close or this clearly.  And he'd never been able to _touch_ them before.  He knows that he shouldn't have touched her just now, but the wings were so beautiful, he just couldn't stop himself.  He didn't mean to frighten her.  She'll be alright, though.  She's a tough one, this Miss... _Angel_ , he believes Miss Raven calls her.   _Such a gift to have, those lovely, gossamer wings,_ he sighs _._

_Well, enough with the wool-gathering.  Time to check on my charges.  I think they're starting to put the pieces together...but I need to make sure they're not getting it all wrong...again._         


	19. Same old, Same Old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles, Erik, and Raven continue delving into the mystery of their haunted mansion. Raven says something useful. Tom appreciates her help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much goes on, just been so long since I've posted anything I figured do something...
> 
> Made some edits to the last few paragraphs. 2/22

          Now safely ensconced in the study, Charles, Erik, and Raven settle down with the journal and letters, ready to take notes for later comparisons.  Charles has the journal, and the stack of letters has been divvied up between Erik and Raven.  Based on his own personal experience with the letters, and judging from Erik’s bright red ears and constant shifting, as well as Raven’s unusually rapt attention to her assigned task, Charles has a pretty good guess as to the content.  His half-arsed theory is confirmed when Erik makes a strangled noise at what must be a particularly graphic passage, and Raven immediately starts making grabby hands, demanding to see. The journal’s not much better, of course—especially as the affair between Edward and Tom grows ever deeper.  Charles still finds it all endlessly fascinating, especially Edward.  He was one of those men who would appear to others as cold and aloof—passionless—to those who didn't know him.  But quite to the contrary, Edward Rochester was a man of such deep emotion that, in an effort to not appear weak, he hid behind a mask of seeming indifference.  Only those very few whom he allowed access to his heart (or, in this case, those snooping about his private papers) had the slightest inkling of the real man.   _Reminds me very much of someone I know,_ Charles thinks, flicking a glance at Erik.  He smiles softly before going back to the journal.

         Edward was a man of much passion, all hidden away.  So very few would ever know how the color had returned to Edward’s world when his Jane had, against all hope, returned to him.  Or know that the stern, forbidding Edward Rochester had wept with joy at the sound of his son‘s first breath and laughed with wonder when that breath had grown to a strong, healthy cry.  Or know how deeply he had worried and fretted over his god-daughter’s engagement, even as he had groaned in misery at Adele’s insistence that the wedding ceremony to be conducted entirely in French (including the reception).

         

**Excerpt from the Private Journals of Edward Rochester:**

        _With every passing day, the fire of my passion for Thomas burns ever hotter.  We will soon have the long-awaited opportunity to consummate that passion.  I risk much as I am not sure I will survive the experience, dear Journal.  My Tom has proven to be insatiable when it comes to pleasure—endearingly impatient, demanding, and downright incorrigible.  It is only my iron will that keeps me from taking him at every opportunity, for the very sight of him causes my blood to heat to a boil, and my heart to pound out a such a wild, driving beat that I cannot believe it is not heard by all around me._

_Yet, in spite of all this, my desire for Jane remains true as ever.  The sight, nay, the very thought, of her also heats my blood, but oh so gently—and my heart beats for her, though that beat is not wild, but steady and true.  How can it be that I love them both so very deeply?  I ask myself this question every day, meditating upon it, dear Journal, and I have yet to find the answer._

_My two dear loves compliment each other so well, though they know not.  My Jane’s gentleness makes Tom’s shameless passion all the more thrilling and his tender moments all the more precious.  I love them both so very much and cannot imagine my life without them.  As I've written before, my fondest dream is to have them both together in my bed.  Tom shares my love of all the dark and sensual pleasures that I cannot bring myself to force upon Jane.  But I can see Tom’s wanton nature stoking the fires of Jane’s quiet passion into an inferno.  And my gentle Jane could perhaps temper the burning fire of Tom’s passion to something that would not leave only bitter ashes in it’s wake._

_Thomas is such a wanton, sensual creature and so eager to try every pleasure I have to show him.  Even so, I am humbled by his trust in offering me this precious gift.  I long to be inside him, to see the surrender in his beautiful face as I take him to my bed and we at last become lovers in truth.  I want to hear the sounds he makes as he gives himself to me and watch as he shudders in pleasure as he experiences this new kind of love for the first time.  Soon, so soon now, I will fin—”_

 

          “...Charles!”

          “Hey, Charles!” Charles looks up from his reading as Raven’s increasingly strident voice finally pierces his fog. “Huh? What?!”

          “Charles, I've been trying to get your attention for forever! I was getting worried!”

          “Did something happen?!” He looks around frantically.

          “No, you just had this goofy look on your face and it looked like you were reading something really k—”

          Charles holds up his hand in warning, “If you say _‘kinky’_ , I’m going to disown you!”

          Erik snorts.  Raven glares and finishes with, “— _kind_ of interesting...”

          “Well, you’re right, there.  Definitely interesting, but not exactly useful.”

          “HA! So it was kinky! I knew it!”

          “You’re such a horn-dog, Raven.”

          She gives Charles an arch look and in a dreadful English accent says, “Well, I did learn from the best, darling!”

          “Bite m— _OW_!”

          Laughing at both of them, Erik finally speaks up.  “Well, on that note, I think it’s time we all turned in for the night.  Seems like everyone’s getting a bit loopy.”

          “You’re right,” Charles acknowledges, rubbing his shoulder where Raven bit him.  “I think we’re tapped out for the night.”

 

          On their way back upstairs, Raven asks, “Hey, did either of you notice how the dates skip around in the journal?”

          Charles stops and looks at her, “What do you mean?”

          “Well, I noticed that the dates don’t always match up with the action.  Like the date is in the fall, but what’s being described is clearly in the spring and vice versa.”

          “I hadn't thought about it before, but now that you mention it, I've noticed the same thing with my dreams versus what is in the journals and letters.”

          “What do you think it means?” Erik asks.

          “I think it means that Raven is a genius. And that we need to get some sleep and look into this first thing in the morning.”

          Raven preens at Charles’s praise.  “Well, it’s about time you figured it out!”  Then she swans off to her room.

 

Erik and Charles awkwardly stand in the corridor, not sure what to do now that they are finally alone again.   _Sex or Ghost Attack?_   _Sex?_   _Or Ghost Attack?_ In unison, their shoulders slump, they mumble, “Goodnight.”, and shuffle off to their own beds.

 

         

Raven is so high on being right that she doesn’t notice that Charles has followed her, not until she goes to open her bedroom door and sees him standing next to her.  She'll never admit to the sound she makes at seeing him.  Hand pressed to her to her chest to keep her pounding heart from jumping out, she says (squeaks), "You scared the shit out of me, Charles!  Hey, what are you wearing?"

Charles says nothing.  Just grins wide and kisses her cheek.

Raven shivers and yelps, “Oh my God, Charles!  Your lips are freez—” the words die off as Raven sees the white mist accompanying her words.

Her eyes widen in shock as a grinning, slightly transparent 'Charles' winks at her, finger-waves, and fades away.   _"_ _Goodnight..."_

"Goodnight," Raven answers, weakly.

 

Without another word, Raven turns around and heads to Angel's room.  "Scooch over."  Whatever the look on Raven's face is, it makes Angel not any questions--she just scooches.  Raven climbs in beside her...and makes her keep the lights on all night.

 

 

As for Tom, he hasn't had this much fun in a long time.  The look on Miss Raven's face was priceless.  He hadn't meant to frighten her, but he couldn't help but appear to her--she deserved that kiss on the cheek for finally getting those two idiots to look in the right direction.  

         

Now it's time to visit Charles and give him something to dream about.

 

 

          


	20. Fun with Dick and Jane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles dreams again, and this time figures out something useful--even though, to Tom's annoyance, it's still wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Believe it or not, I finally updated the thing! Short chapter and kinda porny, but at least something happens.

          When Charles opens his eyes, he's not entirely surprised to find that he is back in the study, naked and sitting sprawled out in Edward’s desk chair, so he just goes with it.  The sensation of the smooth, supple, body-warmed leather against his bare skin is incredibly erotic.  He knows that Edward already thinks him terribly shameless and wanton, but truly he has never before done anything as openly daring as this.  The possibility that whomever next walks through the door may not be Edward is dangerously thrilling.  Indeed, at the thought of being caught like this, naked and on display, he becomes even more breathless and flushed, growing so impossibly hard that his erection bobs in time to his heartbeat.  All but panting with excitement, he traces a finger up his cock, gasping at the sensation.  He gathers the moisture leaking from the tip, and brings his finger to his mouth, moaning in pleasure at the taste of himself.

          Waiting impatiently for Edward to discover him like this, he continues to distract himself from the almost unbearable anticipation by imagining what he’d do if he really was found by someone else.  It hasn’t escaped his notice how the serving girls look at him and how they giggle and whisper most becomingly when he is about.  What if one of them did see him like this?  What would she do?  Gasp and scurry away, only to dream of him later?  Or, shy and blushing, would she creep closer in curiosity?  Or, if she were one of the bolder maids, perhaps lift her skirts for him and allow him to take her?  Maybe he would even _finally_ find out if feels to have fellatio performed _on him_ , for a change.

          Then he snickers to himself, wondering what sweet, boring _Jane_ would do if she walked in and saw him like this.  Then recalling her flushed cheeks the time she’d watched him eat his custard, a nearly-overwhelming and completely unexpected streak of desire runs through him.  Suddenly, the thought of Jane is no longer the least bit amusing or boring.  He lets out a shuddering breath and wipes a shaking hand over his face at the powerful and vivid image now in his mind: Jane on her knees, shyly but eagerly taking him into her mouth, then looking up at him with her soft blue eyes.

          Unable to keep this image from his mind, he runs his still-trembling hand over his chest and down his body to grip his cock.  He pleasures himself, thinking about her kneeling at his feet.  He can almost hear her sweet voice telling him how she loves the way he tastes, loves him like this.  He’d seen her hair down once, a great mass of soft brown hair that fell well past her hips.  Now, he imagines fisting his hands into that thick, shining hair to gently guide he head as she takes him back into her warm, welcoming mouth.  He moans, further imagining the feel of her small pink tongue against him.   _So_ this _is why men speak so reverently of this act,_  he whispers in awe.  His body feels like it’s on fire, and he gasps _‘Jane!’_ as he comes—the image of his seed striping along her porcelain skin and across her swollen lips, lips curved in a smile that would put the _Mona Lisa_ to shame, is burned into his brain.  

          How could he have never before noticed how beautiful she is?  How sweetly sensual?  How could he have ever thought her a mouse?   _‘...even the wee mouse still has teeth with which to bite...'_   The words come unbidden to him, words from one of his many missives to Edward.  

          Edward. _Oh, God, Edward_. Charles feels a wave of guilt for betraying his lover, even if only in the privacy of his own mind.  While, he’s always felt shame for having betrayed Jane, the woman who accepted him as part of their family, until tonight he could have lived with it.  Jane was little more than just sweet, boring Jane, after all.

          But now, the damage is done and he can never look at her the same again.

 

          Charles wakes up abruptly from the dream, his face is wet with tears.  “Tom and _Jane_ were having the affair?!”  Wiping at his face, he groans, “Oh, this whole mess just _keeps_ getting better...”  He just can't _wait_ to tell Erik and Raven about this new development.  "Oh, God, just kill me now..."   _Well, at least Raven wasn't in this one, so I suppose things are looking up.  There you go Charles, every cloud had a silver lining._

 

          From where he is very carefully hidden in the shadows, Tom face-palms.   _Of all the times for him to_ finally _start getting closer to the truth, and still be so fucking wrong, he_ would _have to pick_ now _._     _Now,_ when Edward is present, and the look on his face at Charles’s words is one of utter shock.  

          Tom would give anything to go to Edward right now and erase that look from his face, but it's still not yet time, so he has to stay hidden.  No matter how badly he wants to show himself.  And he wishes, not for the first time, that Miss Raven was the psychic instead of Charles.  If he could have dealt with her, this would have been over long ago.  

 

          Instead, now he's got yet another mess to fix, so he lets himself slowly fade so that he can rest, regain his strength, and plan a new strategy.   _'Goodbye Edward...'_  


End file.
